IC-NRLF 


B    M    105    3 It, 


1 


E  PREACHER 


CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

ERNEST  THOMPSON   SETON 


THE  PREACHER  OF 
CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 


You  must  choose  between  us.     Is  it  Belle  or  Blazing  Star?  ' ' 


THE  PREACHER  OF 
CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

A  TALE  OF  THE  OPEN  COUNTRY 


BY 
ERNEST  THOMPSON  SETON 


FRONTISPIECE   BY 

CLARENCE  ROWE 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1917 


Copyright,  1917,  by 
ERNEST  THOMPSON  SETON 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  language  st 

including  the  Scandinavian 


P? 

n 


PREFACE 

Most  of  the  characters  in  this  tale  are  from  life,  and 
some  of  the  main  events  are  historical,  although  the 
actual  scenes  and  names  are  not  given.  Many  men  now 
living  will  remember  Fighting  Bill  Kenna  and  the  Horse 
Preacher,  as  well  as  the  Fort  Ryan  races.  These  horse 
races  are  especially  well  known  and  have  been  described 
in  print  many  times.  I  did  not  witness  any  of  them  my 
self,  but  listened  on  numerous  occasions  when  they  were 
described  to  me  by  eye-witnesses.  My  first  knowledge 
of  the  secret  try-out  in  Yellowbank  Canyon  was  given  to 
me  years  ago  by  Homer  Davenport,  the  cartoonist,  with 
permission  to  use  the  same. 

But  all  of  these  more  or  less  historic  events  are  second 
ary  to  the  intent  of  illustrating  the  growth  of  a  character, 
whose  many  rare  gifts  were  mere  destructive  force  until 
curbed  and  harmonized  into  the  big,  strong  machine  that 
did  such  noble  work  in  the  West  during  my  early  days 
on  the  Plains. 

ERNEST  THOMPSON  SETON. 


918956 


PAGE 


CONTENTS 

Preface    .  ^.      ,      .      .      .     |    .      .....      .  v 

BOOK  I 

THE  CHILD  OF  THE  STABLE  YARD 

CHAPTER 

I.     The  Home  Land  of  Little  Jim  Hartigan  3 

II.     The  Strains  That  Were  Mingled  in  Jim  8 

III.     How  He  Lost  His  Father     .      .      .      .  13 

IV.     The  Atmosphere  of  His  Early  Days    .  20 

V.     Little  Jim's  Tutors 25 

VI.     Jim  Loses  Everything 42 

VII.     He  Gets  a  Much-needed  Lesson     .      .  48 

BOOK  II 
THE  CONVERSION 

VIII.     The  Conversion  of  Jim 57 

IX.     Jim  Hartigan  Goes  to  College  ...  63 

X.     Escape  to  Cedar  Mountain       ...  67 

XI.     A  New  Force  Enters  His  Life         .      .  77 

XII.     Belle  Boyd      ...........  84 

XIII.  Preacher  Jim's  First  Sermon     .      .      .  93 

XIV.  The  Lure  of  the  Saddle        .      ...  102 
XV.     Pat  Bylow's  Spree     .      .      .      .      .      .  109 

XVI.     The  New  Insurance  Agents       .      .      .  116 
XVII.     Belle    Makes    a    Decision    and    Jim 

Evades  One ,  125 

vii 


Vlll 

CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


XVIII.  The  Second  Bylow  Spree     .      .      .      .  131 

XIX.  The  Day  of  Reckoning 138 

XX.  The  Memorable  Trip  to  Deadwood     .  146 

XXI.  The  Ordeal 153 

XXII.  The  Three  Religions  Confront  Him     .  160 

BOOK  III 
THE  HORSE  PREACHER 

XXIII.  Blazing  Star   .      .      .      .      ...   .     ..      .  171 

XXIV.  Red  Rover 177 

XXV.  The  Secret  of  Yellowbank  Canyon  .      .  190 

XXVI.  Preparing  for  the  Day    .      ,      .      .      .  194 

XXVII.  The  Start        .      .      .      ...      .      .  198 

XXVIII.  The  Finish .  203 

XXIX.  The  Riders 207 

XXX.  The  Fire    ..........  213 

XXXI.  Love  in  the  Saddle  220 


BOOK  IV 
THE  HORSE  PREACHER  AFOOT 

XXXII.  The  Advent  of  Midnight     .      .      . 

XXXIII.  The  Sociable  .      .      .      .      .      .      . 

XXXIV.  Springtime 

XXXV.  When  the  Greasewood  is  in  Bloom 

XXXVI.     Shoeing  the  Buckskin     .      .     .     . 
XXXVII.    The  Boom      ,     .-%     .     .     .     . 
XXXVIII.     When  the  Craze  Struck 


227 
232 

237 
242 
246 

252 
257 


CONTENTS 


IX 


XXXIX.     Jim's  Bet .  265 

XL.     The  Crow  Band 269 

XLI.  The  Pinto       ........  276 

XLII.     The  Aftertime 284 

XLIII.     Finding  the  Lost  One 289 

XLIV.     A  Fair  Rider        . 294 

XLV.  The  Life  Game    .......  300 

XLVI.     What  Next? 312 

XL VII.     Back  to  Deadwood 320 

XLVIII.     The  Fork  in  the  Trail 326 

XLIX.  The  Power  of  Personality    .      .      .      .  333 

L.     The  Call  to  Chicago 337 

LI.     These  Little  Ones 341 

LII.     The  Boss 352 

LIII.     The  First  Meeting 360 

LIV.  The  Formation  of  the  Club       .      .      .  364 

BOOK  V 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 

LV.  In  the  Absence  of  Belle         ....  371 

LVI.  The  Defection  of  Squeaks    ....  380 

LVII.     The  Trial 387 

LVIII.  In  the  Death  House        .....  398 

LIX.  The  Heart  Hunger    .      .      .      .      .      .  403 

LX.  The  Gateway  and  the  Mountain    .      .  407 

LXI.  Clear  Vision  on  the  Mountain        .      .411 

LXII.  When  He  Walked  with  the  King   .      .  421 


BOOK  ONE 
THE  CHILD  OF  THE  STABLE  YARD 


THE  PREACHER 
OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  HOME  LAND  OF  LITTLE   JIM   HARTIGAN 

BURNT,  bare,  seared,  and  wounded  spot  in  the 
great  pine  forest  of  Ontario,  some  sixty  miles 
northeast  of  Toronto,  was  the  little  town  of  Links. 
It  lay  among  the  pine  ridges,  the  rich,  level  bottomlands, 
and  the  newborn  townships,  in  a  region  of  blue  lakes  and 
black  loam  that  was  destined  to  be  a  thriving  community  of 
prosperous  farmer  folk.  The  broad,  unrotted  stumps  of 
the  trees  that  not  so  long  ago  possessed  the  ground,  were 
thickly  interstrewn  among  the  houses  of  the  town  and  in 
the  little  fields  that  began  to  show  as  angular  invasions  of 
the  woodland,  one  by  every  settler's  house  of  logs. 
Through  the  woods  and  through  the  town  there  ran  the 
deep,  brown  flood  of  the  little  bog-born  river,  and  streaking 
its  current  for  the  whole  length  were  the  huge,  fragrant 
logs  of  the  new-cut  pines,  in  disorderly  array,  awaiting 
their  turn  to  be  shot  through  the  mill  and  come  forth  as 
piles  of  lumber,  broad  waste  slabs,  and  heaps  of  useless 
sawdust. 
Two  or  three  low  sawmills  were  there,  each  booming, 


4       THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

humming,  busied  all  the  day.  And  the  purr  of  their  saws, 
or  the  scream  when  they  struck  some  harder  place  in  the 
wood,  was  the  dominant  note,  the  day-long  labour-song  of 
Links.  At  first  it  seemed  that  these  great,  wasteful 
fragrant,  tree-destroying  mills  were  the  only  industries  of 
the  town;  and  one  had  to  look  again  before  discovering,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  the  grist  mill,  sullenly  claiming 
its  share  of  the  water  power,  and  proclaiming  itself  just  as 
good  as  any  other  mill;  while  radiating  from  the  bridge  be 
low  the  dam,  were  the  streets — or,  rather,  the  rough  roads, 
straight  and  ugly — along  which  wooden  houses,  half 
hidden  by  tall  sunflowers,  had  been  built  for  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  very  close  together  near  the  bridge,  but  ever  with  less 
of  house  and  sunflower  and  more  of  pumpkin  field  as  one 
travelled  on,  till  the  last  house  with  the  last  pumpkin  field 
was  shut  in  by  straggling,  much-culled  woods,  alternating 
with  swamps  that  were  densely  grown  with  odorous  cedar 
and  fragrant  tamarac,  as  yet  untouched  by  the  inexorable 
axe  of  the  changing  day. 

Seen  from  the  road,  the  country  was  forest,  with  about 
one  quarter  of  the  land  exposed  by  clearings,  in  each  of 
which  were  a  log  cabin  and  the  barn  of  a  settler.  Seen 
from  the  top  of  the  tallest  building,  the  sky  line  was,  as  yet, 
an  array  of  plumy  pines,  which  still  stood  thick  among  the 
hardwood  trees  and,  head  and  shoulders,  overtopped  them. 

Links  was  a  town  of  smells.  There  were  two  hotels  with 
their  complex,  unclean  livery  barns  and  yards,  beside,  be 
hind,  and  around  them;  and  on  every  side  and  in  every 
yard  there  were  pigs — and  still  more  pigs — an  evidence  of 
thrift  rather  than  of  sanitation;  but  over  all,  and  in  the  end 


HOME  LAND  OF  LITTLE  JIM  HARTIGAN    5 

overpowering  all,  were  the  sweet,  pervading  odour  of  the 
new-sawn  boards  and  the  exquisite  aroma  of  the  different 
fragrant  gums — of  pine,  cedar,  or  fir — which  memory  will 
acknowledge  as  the  incense  to  conjure  up  again  in  vivid 
actuality  these  early  days  of  Links. 


It  was  on  a  sunny  afternoon  late  in  the  summer  of  1866 
that  a  little  knot  of  loafers  and  hangers-on  of  the  hotels 
gathered  in  the  yard  of  the  town's  larger  hostelry  and 
watched  Bill  Kenna  show  an  admiring  world  how  to  ride  a 
wild,  unbroken  three-year-old  horse.  It  was  not  a  very  bad 
horse,  and  Bill  was  too  big  to  be  a  wonderful  rider,  but  still 
he  stayed  on,  and  presently  subdued  the  wild  thing  to  his 
will,  amid  the  brief,  rough,  but  complimentary  remarks  of 
the  crowd. 

One  of  the  most  rapt  of  the  onlookers  was  a  rosy- 
cheeked,  tow-topped  boy  of  attractive  appearance — Jim; 
who  though  only  eight  years  old,  was  blessed  with  all  the 
assurance  of  twenty-eight.  Noisy  and  forward,  offering 
suggestions  and  opinions  at  the  pitch  of  his  piping  voice, 
he  shrieked  orders  to  every  one  with  all  the  authority  of  a 
young  lord;  as  in  some  sense  he  was,  for  he  was  the  only 
son  of  "Widdy"  Hartigan,  the  young  and  comely  owner 
and  manager  of  the  hotel. 

"There,  now,  Jim.  Could  ye  do  that?"  said  one  of  the 
bystanders,  banteringly. 

"I  couldn't  ride  that  'un,  cause  me  legs  ain't  long  enough 
to  lap  round;  but  I  bet  I  could  ride  that  'un,"  and  he 
pointed  to  a  little  foal  gazing  at  them  from  beside  its  dam. 


6       THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"All  right,  let  him  try,"  said  several. 

"And  have  his  brains  kicked  out,"  said  a  more  temper 
ate  onlooker. 

"Divil  a  bit,"  said  big  Bill,  the  owner  of  the  colt. 
"That's  the  kindest  little  thing  that  ever  was  born  to  look 
through  a  collar,"  and  he  demonstrated  the  fact  by  going 
over  and  putting  his  arms  around  the  young  thing's  gentle 
neck. 

"Here,  you;  give  me  a  leg  up,"  shouted  Jimmy,  and  in  a 
moment  he  was  astride  the  four-month  colt. 

In  a  yard,  under  normal  kindly  conditions,  a  colt  may  be 
the  gentlest  thing  in  the  world,  but  when  suddenly  there 
descends  upon  its  back  a  wild  animal  that  clings  with  ex 
asperating  pertinacity,  there  is  usually  but  one  result. 
The  colt  plunged  wildly,  shaking  its  head  and  instinctively 
putting  in  practice  all  the  ancient  tricks  that  its  kind  had 
learned  in  fighting  the  leopard  or  the  wolf  of  the  ancestral 
wild  horse  ranges. 

But  Jim  stuck  on.  His  legs,  it  was  true,  were  not  long 
enough  to  "lap  round,"  but  he  was  a  born  horseman.  He 
had  practised  since  he  was  able  to  talk,  never  losing  a 
chance  to  bestride  a  steed;  and  now  he  was  in  his  glory. 
Round  and  round  went  the  colt,  amid  the  laughter  of  the 
onlookers.  They  apprehended  no  danger,  for  they  knew 
that  the  youngster  could  ride  like  a  jackanapes;  in  any  case 
the  yard  was  soft  with  litter,  and  no  harm  could  happen  to 
the  boy. 

The  colt,  nearly  ridden  down,  had  reached  the  limit  of 
its  young  strength,  and  had  just  about  surrendered.  Jim 
was  waving  one  hand  in  triumph,  while  the  other  clutched 


HOME  LAND  OF  LITTLE  JIM   HARTIGAN  7 

the  fuzzy  mane  before  him,  when  a  new  and  striking  ele 
ment  was  added  to  the  scene.  A  rustle  of  petticoats,  a 
white  cap  over  yellow  hair,  a  clear,  commanding  voice  that 
sent  the  men  all  back  abashed,  and  the  Widdy  Hartigan 
burst  through  the  little  circle. 

"What  do  ye  mean  letting  me  bhoy  do  that  fool  thing  to 
risk  his  life  and  limb?  Have  ye  no  sense,  the  lot  of  ye? 
Jimmy,  ye  brat,  do  ye  want  to  break  yer  mother's  heart? 
Come  off  of  that  colt  this  holy  minute;  or  I'll— 

Up  till  now,  Jim  had  been  absolute  dominator  of  the 
scene;  but  the  powerful  personality  of  his  mother  shat 
tered  his  control,  dethroned  him. 

As  she  swept  angrily  toward  him,  his  nerve  for  the  time 
was  shaken.  The  colt  gave  a  last  wild  plunge;  Jim  lost  his 
balance  and  his  hold,  and  went  down  on  the  soft  litter. 

As  it  sprang  free  from  its  tormenter,  the  frightened  beast 
gave  vent  to  its  best  instinctive  measure  of  defense  and 
launched  out  a  final  kick.  The  youngster  gave  a  howl  of 
pain,  and  in  a  minute  more  he  was  sobbing  in  his  mother's 
arms,  while  one  of  the  crowd  was  speeding  for  the  doctor. 

Yes,  the  arm  was  broken  above  the  elbow,  a  simple  frac 
ture,  a  matter  of  a  month  to  mend.  The  bone  was  quickly 
set,  and  when  his  wailing  had  in  a  measure  subsided,  Jim 
showed  his  horseman  soul  by  jerking  out:  "I  could  have 
rode  him,  Mother.  I'll  ride  him  yet.  I'll  tame  him  to  a 
finish,  the  little  divil." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   STRAINS  THAT  WERE   MINGLED   IN  JIM 

CLEARLY  one  cannot  begin  the  history  of  the 
French  Revolution  with  the  outbreak  of  1789. 
Most  phenomena,  physical  and  spiritual,  have 
their  roots,  their  seeds,  their  causes — whatever  you 
will — far  behind  them  in  point  of  time.  To  understand 
them  one  must  go  back  to  the  beginning  or  they  will  pre 
sent  no  logic  or  raison  d'etre.  The  phenomenon  of  James 
Hartigan,  the  Preacher  of  Cedar  Mountain,  which  is  both 
a  physical  and  a  spiritual  fact,  is  nowise  different,  and  the 
reader  must  go  back  with  me  to  some  very  significant 
events  which  explain  him  and  account  for  him. 

Little  Jim's  father  was  James  O'Hartigan  in  Donegal. 
The  change  in  the  patronymic  was  made,  not  by  himself, 
but  by  the  Government  Emigration  Agent  at  Cork.  When 
James,  Sr.  came  forward  to  be  listed  for  passage,  the  official 
said :  "Oh,  hang  your  O's.  I  have  more  of  them  now  than 
the  column  will  hold.  I'll  have  to  put  you  in  the  H's, 
where  there's  lots  of  room."  And  so  the  weight  of  all  the 
Empire  was  behind  the  change. 

James  Hartigan,  Sr.  was  a  typical  Irish  "bhoy,"  which 
is  high  praise.  He  was  broad  and  hearty,  with  a  broad 
and  hearty  grin.  He  was  loved  and  lovable,  blessed  with  a 
comely  countenance  and  the  joy  of  a  humorous  outlook 

8 


STRAINS  THAT  WERE  MINGLED  IN  JIM     9 

on  life  and  its  vicissitudes.  You  could  not  down  Jimmy  so 
low  that  he  might  not  see  some  bright  and  funny  aspect  in 
the  situation.  This  was  not  only  a  happy  temperamental 
trait,  but  it  also  had  a  distinct  advantage,  for  in  the  mo 
ments  of  deepest  self-invited  degradation  he  never  forgot 
that  somewhere  ahead,  his  trail  would  surely  lead  to  the 
uplands  once  again. 

He  was  what  the  doctors  called  "normal  human," 
muscled  far  above  the  average,  heart  action  strong  and 
regular.  This  combination  often  produces  two  well- 
marked  types — a  high-class  athlete  and  a  low-class  drunk 
ard.  Often  these  are  united  in  the  same  individual;  or, 
rather,  the  individual  appears  in  the  first  role,  until  the 
second  comes  to  overmaster  it.  Such  was  Jimmy  Harti- 
gan,  Sr.,  whose  relation  to  the  Preacher  may  be  labelled 
Cause  Number  One. 

Those  who  knew  her  people  said  that  the  forbears  of 
Katherine  Muckevay  had  seen  better  days;  that  the 
ancient  royal  blood  of  Ireland  ran  in  her  veins;  that  the 
family  name  was  really  Mach-ne-veagh;  and  that,  if  every 
one  had  his  own,  Kitty  would  be  wearing  a  diamond  tiara 
in  the  highest  walks  of  London  importance.  In  ancient 
days,  the  Kings  of  Ulster  used  to  steal  a  bride  at  times  from 
the  fair-haired  folk  across  the  sea;  maybe  that  was  where 
Kitty  got  her  shining  hair  of  dusty  yellow-red,  as  well  as 
the  calm  control  in  times  of  stress,  something  the  psy 
chologists  call  coordination,  which  is  not  a  Celtic  character 
istic. 

Of  book  learning  Kitty  had  almost  none,  but  she  had 
native  gifts.  She  had  wits,  good  looks,  and  a  wealth  of 


io     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

splendid  hair,  as  well  as  a  certain  presence  which  was  her 
perpetual  hedge  of  safety,  even  when  she  took  the  perilous 
place  of  maid  in  the  crude  hotel  with  its  bar-room  annex, 
whither  the  hand  of  Fate  had  brought  her,  an  Irish  immi 
grant,  to  find  a  new  life  in  the  little  town  of  Links.  Kitty 
was  Cause  Number  Two. 

Jimmy  did  not  chance  to  cross  on  the  same  ship.  But 
the  time  had  come;  and  by  chance,  which  is  not  chance  at 
all,  he  drifted  into  the  same  corner  of  Canada,  and  had  not 
half  a  day  to  wait  before  he  was  snapped  up  by  a  local 
farmer  seeking  for  just  such  a  build  of  man  to  swing  the  axe 
and  scythe  upon  his  farm. 

Farm  life  is  dreary  enough,  at  least  it  was  in  those  days. 
It  was  hard  work  from  dawn  to  dusk,  and  even  then  the 
feeble,  friendly  glimmer  of  a  caged  candle  was  invoked  to 
win  an  extra  hour  or  two  of  labour  from  the  idleness  of 
gloom — hours  for  the  most  part  devoted  to  the  chores. 
The  custom  of  the  day  gave  all  the  hired  ones  freedom 
Saturday  night  and  all  day  Sunday.  Wages  were  high, 
and  with  one  broad  epidemic  impulse  all  these  thriving 
hirelings  walked,  drove,  or  rode  on  Saturday  night  to  the 
little  town  of  Links.  Man  is  above  all  a  social  animal ;  only 
the  diseased  ones  seek  solitude.  Where,  then,  could  they 
meet  their  kind  ? 

The  instinct  which  has  led  to  the  building  of  a  million 
clubs,  could  find  no  local  focus  but  the  bar-room.  John 
Downey's  " hotel"  was  the  social  centre  of  the  great 
majority  of  the  men  who  lived  and  moved  around  the 
town  of  Links.  Not  the  drink  itself,  but  the  desire  of  men 
to  meet  with  men,  to  talk  and  swap  the  news  or  bandy 


STRAINS  THAT  WERE  MINGLED  IN  JIM   u 

mannish  jokes,  was  the  attracting  force.  But  the  drink 
was  there  on  tap  and  all  the  ill-adjusted  machinery  of  our 
modern  ways  operated  to  lead  men  on,  to  make  abstainers 
drink,  to  make  the  moderate,  drunken. 

If  the  life  in  Downey's  stable,  house,  and  bar  were  ex 
panded  in  many  chapters,  the  reader  would  find  a  pile  of 
worthless  rubbish,  mixed  with  filth,  but  also  here  and  there 
a  thread  of  gold,  a  rod  of  the  finest  steel,  and  even  precious 
jewels.  But  this  is  not  a  history  of  the  public  house. 
Downey's  enters  our  list  merely  as  Cause  Number  Three. 

Those  who  study  psychological  causation  say  that  one 
must  find  four  causes,  accounting  for  place,  matter,  force, 
and  time.  The  three  already  given  are  well  known,  and  I  can 
only  guess  at  the  fourth,  that  referring  to  the  time.  If  we 
suppose  that  a  sea  pirate  of  a  thousand  years  ago,  was  per 
mitted  to  return  to  earth,  to  prove  that  he  had  learned  the 
lessons  of  gentleness  so  foreign  to  his  rapacious  modes  of 
thought,  and  that,  after  a  thousand  years  of  cogitation  in 
some  disembodied  state,  he  was  allowed  to  reassume  the 
flesh,  to  fight  a  different  fight,  to  raise  himself  by  battle 
with  himself,  we  shall,  perhaps,  account  for  some  of  the 
strangely  divergent  qualities  that  met  in  the  subject  of  this 
story.  At  least,  let  us  name  the  ancient  Sea-king  as  Cause 
Number  Four.  .  .  .  And  conjunction  of  these  four 
was  affected  in  the  '505  at  Downey's  Hotel,  when  Jim 
Hartigan  met  Kitty  Muckevay. 

These  were  the  strains  that  were  mingled  in  little  Jim ;  and 
during  his  early  life  from  the  first  glimpse  we  catch  of 
him  upon  the  back  of  the  unbroken  colt,  he  was  torn  by 
the  struggle  between  the  wild,  romantic,  erratic,  visionary, 


12     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

fighting  Celt,  with  moods  of  love  and  hate,  and  the  calmer, 
steady,  tireless,  lowland  Scottish  Saxon  from  the  North 
who,  far  less  gifted,  had  far  more  power  and  in  the  end  had 
mastery;  and  having  won  control,  built  of  his  mingled  heri 
tages  a  rare,  strong  soul,  so  steadfast  that  he  was  a  tower  of 
strength  for  all  who  needed  help. 


CHAPTER  III 
How  HE   LOST  His   FATHER 

THE  immediate  and  physical  environment  of  Links 
was  the  far  backwoods  of  Canada,  but  the  spirit 
and  thought  of  it  were  Irish.     The  inhabitants 
were  nearly  all  of  Irish  origin,  most  of  them  of  Irish  birth, 
and  the  fates  had  ruled  it  so  that  they  came  from  all  parts 
of  the  green  isle.     The  North  was  as  well  represented  as 
the  South,  and  the  feuds  of  the  old  land  were  most  unprofit- 
ably  transferred  to  the  new. 

Two  days  on  the  calendar  had  long  been  set  aside  by 
custom  for  the  celebration  of  these  unhappy  feuds;  the 
seventeenth  of  March,  which  is  St.  Patrick's  Day,  and  the 
twelfth  of  July,  on  which,  two  hundred  years  before,  King 
William  had  crossed  the  river  to  win  the  famous  Battle  of 
the  Boyne.  Under  the  evil  spell  of  these  two  memorable 
occasions,  neighbours  who  were  good  and  helpful  friends, 
felt  in  honour  bound  to  lay  all  their  kindness  aside  twice 
every  year,  and  hate  and  harass  each  other  with  a  senseless 
vindictiveness. 

At  the  time  with  which  this  chronicle  has  to  do,  Orange 
Day  had  dawned  on  Links.  No  rising  treble  issued  from 
the  sawmills;  the  air  was  almost  free  of  their  dust,  and 
there  were  hints  of  holiday  on  all  the  town.  Farmers* 
wagons  were  arriving  early,  and  ribbons  of  orange  and  blue 

11 


i4     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

were  fastened  in  the  horses'  headgear.  From  the  back 
yard  of  Downey's  Hotel  the  thumping  of  a  big  drum  was 
heard,  and  the  great  square  piles  of  yellow  lumber  near 
Ford's  Mill  gave  back  the  shrilling  of  fifes  that  were  tuning 
up  for  the  event.  As  the  sun  rose  high,  the  Orangemen  of 
the  Lodge  appeared,  each  wearing  regalia — cuffs  and  a 
collarette  of  sky-blue  with  a  fringe  of  blazing  orange,  or 
else  of  gold,  inscribed  with  letters  and  symbols. 

The  gathering  place  was  in  the  street  before  the  Lodge 
Hall,  and  their  number  was  steadily  increased  by  men  from 
the  surrounding  farms.  The  brethren  of  the  opposite 
faith,  the  Catholics — more  often  called  "Dogans"  or 
"Papists" — were  wisely  inconspicuous.  Had  it  been 
their  day,  their  friends,  assembled  from  far  places, 
would  have  given  them  numbers  enough  for  safety 
and  confidence;  but  now  the  boys  in  green  were,  for 
the  most  part,  staying  at  home  and  seeking  to  avoid 
offence. 

In  the  stable  yard  of  Downey's  Hotel,  where  Jim  Harti- 
gan — the  father  of  our  hero — and  several  others  of  his 
Church  were  disconsolately  looking  forward  to  a  dreary 
and  humiliating  day,  the  cheery  uproar  of  the  Orangemen 
in  the  bar-room  could  plainly  be  heard.  James  himself 
was  surprised  at  his  restraint  in  not  being  there  too,  for  he 
was  a  typical  Irish  "bhoy"  from  the  west  coast,  with  a 
religion  of  Donegal  colour  and  intensity.  Big,  hearty,  up 
roarious  in  liquor,  and  full  of  fun  at  all  times,  he  was  uni 
versally  beloved.  Nothing  could  or  did  depress  Jim  for 
long;  his  spirits  had  a  generous  rebound.  A  boisterous, 
blue-eyed  boy  of  heroic  stature,  he  was  the  joy  of  Downey's, 


HOW  HE  LOST  HIS  FATHER  15 

brim-full  of  the  fun  of  life  and  the  hero  of  unnumbered 
drinking  bouts  in  the  not  so  very  distant  past.  But — 
two  months  before — Jim  had  startled  Links  and 
horrified  his  priest  by  marrying  Kitty  Muckevay  of  the 
gold-red  hair.  Kitty  had  a  rare  measure  of  good  sense  but 
was  a  Protestant  of  Ulster  inflexibility.  She  had  taken 
Jim  in  hand  to  reform  him,  and  for  sixty  days  he  had  not 
touched  a  drop !  Moreover  he  had  promised  Kitty  to  keep 
out  of  mischief  on  this  day  of  days.  All  that  morning  he 
had  worked  among  the  horses  in  Downey's  livery  stable 
where  he  was  head  man.  It  was  a  public  holiday,  and  he 
had  been  trying  desperately  to  supply  a  safety  valve  for  his 
bursting  energy.  His  excitible  Irish  soul  was  stirred  by 
the  murmur  of  the  little  town,  now  preparing  for  the  great 
parade,  as  it  had  been  stirred  twice  every  year  since  he 
could  remember,  but  now  to  the  farthest  depths. 

He  had  swallowed  successfully  one  or  two  small  affronts 
from  the  passing  Orangemen,  because  he  was  promise- 
bound  and  sober;  but  when  one  of  the  enemy,  a  boon  com 
panion  on  any  other  day,  sought  him  out  in  the  stable  yard 
and,  with  the  light  of  devilment  in  his  eyes,  walked  up 
holding  out  a  flask  of  whiskey  and  said:  "Hartigan! 
Ye  white-livered,  weak-need  papist,  ye're  not  man  enough 
to  take  a  pull  at  that,  an'  tip  the  hat  aff  of  me  head!" 
Hartigan's  resolutions  melted  like  wax  before  the  flare  of  his 
anger.  Seizing  the  flask,  he  took  a  mouthful  of  the  liquor 
and  spurted  it  into  the  face  of  the  tormentor.  The  in 
evitable  fight  did  not  amount  to  much  as  far  as  the 
casualties  went,  but  what  loomed  large  was  the  fact  that 
Hartigan  had  filled  his  mouth  with  the  old  liquid  insanity. 


16     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Immediately  he  was  surrounded  by  those  who  were  riot 
ously  possessed  of  it,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  Jimmy  Harti- 
gan  was  launched  on  the  first  drunken  carouse  he  had 
known  since  he  was  a  married  man  in  public  disgrace  with 
the  priest  for  mating  with  a  Protestant. 

The  day  wore  on  and  the  pace  grew  faster.  There  were 
fun  and  fighting  galore,  and  Jimmy  was  in  his  element 
again.  Occasional  qualms  there  were,  no  doubt,  when  he 
had  a  moment  to  remember  how  Kitty  would  feel  about  it 
all.  But  this  was  his  day  of  joy — mad,  rollicking, 
bacchanalian  joy — and  all  the  pent-up,  unhallowed 
hilarity  of  the  bygone  months  found  vent  in  deeds  more 
wild  than  had  ever  been  his  before. 

The  Orangemen's  procession  started  from  their  lodge, 
with  three  drums  and  one  fife  trilling  a  wheezing,  rattling 
manglement  of  "Croppies  Lie  Down,"  whose  only  justi 
fication  lay  in  the  fact  that  it  was  maintaining  a  tradition 
of  the  time;  and  Jimmy  Hartigan,  besieged  in  the  livery 
yard  with  half  a  dozen  of  his  coreligionists,  felt  called  upon 
to  avenge  the  honour  of  the  South  of  Ireland  at  these  soul- 
polluting  sounds.  Someone  suggested  a  charge  into  the 
ranks  of  the  approaching  procession,  with  its  sizzling  band 
and  its  abhorrent  orange-and-blue  flags,  following  in  the 
wake  of  Bill  Kenna,  whose  proud  post  was  at  the  head  of 
the  procession,  carrying  a  cushion  on  which  was  an  open 
Bible.  The  fact  that  Bill  was  a  notorious  ruffian — in 
capable  of  reading,  and  reeling  drunk — had  no  bearing  on 
his  being  chosen  as  Bible  carrier.  The  Bible  fell  in  the  dust 
many  times  and  was  accidentally  trampled  on  by  its  bearer, 
which  was  unfortunate  but  not  important.  Bill  bore  the 


HOW  HE  LOST  HIS  FATHER  17 

emblem  of  his  organization  and,  being  a  good  man  with  his 
fists,  he  was  amply  qualified  for  his  job. 

But  the  sight  of  all  this  truculence  and  the  ostentatious 
way  in  which  the  little  green  flags  were  trampled  on  and  in 
sulted,  was  too  much  for  Jimmy  and  his  inspired  com 
panions. 

"Let's  charge  the  hull  rabble,"  was  the  suggestion. 

"What!     Six  charge  one  hundred  and  twenty!" 

"Why  not?" 

The  spirit  of  Gideon's  army  was  on  them,  and  Jimmy 
shouted:  "Sure,  bhoys,  let's  hitch  to  that  and  give  it  to 
'em.  Lord  knows  their  black  souls  need  it."  He  pointed 
to  a  great  barrel  half  full  of  whitewash  standing  in  a  wagon 
ready  for  delivery  next  day  at  the  little  steamer  dock, 
where  a  coat  of  whitewash  on  the  wharf  and  shed  was  the 
usual  expedient  to  take  the  place  of  lights  for  night  work. 

Thus  it  came  about.  The  biggest,  strongest  team  in  the 
stable  was  harnessed  in  a  minute.  The  men  were  not  too 
drunk  to  pick  the  best  in  horses  and  harness.  The  barrel 
was  filled  brim-full  with  water  and  well  stirred  up,  so  that 
ammunition  would  be  abundant.  Jimmy  was  to  be  the 
driver;  the  other  five  were  each  armed  with  a  bucket,  ex 
cept  one  who  found  a  force  pump  through  which  the  white 
wash  could  be  squirted  with  delightful  precision.  They 
were  to  stand  around  the  barrel  and  dash  its  contents  right 
and  left  as  Jimmy  drove  the  horses  at  full  speed  down  the 
middle  of  the  procession.  Glorious  in  every  part  was  the 
plan;  wild  enthusiasm  carried  all  the  six  away  and  set  the 
horses  on  their  mettle. 

Armed  with  a  long,  black  snake  whip,  Jimmy  mounted 


iS     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

the  wagon  seat.  The  gate  was  flung  wide,  and,  with  a 
whoop,  away  went  that  bumping  chariot  of  splashing 
white.  Bill  Kenna  had  just  dropped  his  Bible  for  the 
eleventh  time  and,  condemning  to  eternal  perdition  all 
those  ill-begotten  miscreants  who  dared  to  push  him  on  or 
help  his  search,  he  held  the  ranks  behind  him  for  a  moment 
halted.  At  this  instant  with  a  wild  shout,  in  charged  Jim 
Hartigan,  with  his  excited  crew.  There  was  not  a  man  in 
the  procession  who  had  not  loved  Hartigan  the  day  before, 
and  who  did  not  love  him  the  day  after;  but  there  was  none 
that  did  not  hate  him  with  a  bitter  hate  on  this  twelfth  day 
of  July,  as  he  charged  and  split  the  procession  wide  open. 

The  five  helpers  dashed  their  bewildering,  blinding  slush 
fast  and  far,  on  every  face  and  badge  that  they  could  hit; 
and  the  pump  stream  hit  Kenna  square  in  the  face  as  he 
yelled  in  wrath.  The  paraders  were  not  armed  for  such  a 
fight.  Men  that  could  face  bullets,  knives,  and  death, 
were  dismayed,  defeated,  and  routed  by  these  baffling 
bucketfuls  and  the  amazing  precision  of  the  squirting 
pump. 

Strong  hands  clutched  at  the  bridle  reins,  but  the  team 
was  plunging  and  going  fast.  The  driver  was  just  drunk 
enough  for  recklessness;  he  kept  the  horses  jumping  all 
down  that  Orangemen's  parade.  Oh,  what  a  rout  it  made! 
And  the  final  bucketfuls  were  hurled  in  through  the  win 
dow  of  the  Orange  Lodge,  just  where  they  were  needed 
most,  as  Jimmy  and  his  five  made  their  escape. 

The  bottle  now  went  round  once  more.  Shrieking  with 
laughter  at  their  sweeping,  bloodless  victory,  the  six 
Papists  saw  the  procession  rearrayed.  Kenna  had  re- 


HOW  HE  LOST  HIS  FATHER  19 

covered  and  wiped  his  face  with  one  coat  sleeve,  his  Bible 
with  the  other.  The  six  dispensers  of  purity  could  not  re 
sist  it;  they  must  charge  again.  Hartigan  wheeled  the 
horses  to  make  the  turn  at  a  run.  But  with  every  cir 
cumstance  against  him — speed  and  reckless  driving,  a 
rough  and  narrow  roadway  beset  with  stumps — the  wagon 
lurched,  crashed,  upset,  and  the  six  went  sprawling  in  the 
ditch.  The  horses  ran  away  to  be  afterward  rounded  up  at 
a  farm  stable  three  miles  off,  with  the  fragments  of  a  wagon 
trailing  behind  them. 

The  anger  of  the  Orangemen  left  them  as  they  gathered 
around.  Five  of  the  raiders  were  badly  shaken  and 
sobered,  one  lay  still  on  the  stones,  a  deep  and  bloody  dent 
in  his  head.  The  newly  arrived,  newly  fledged  doctor 
came,  and  when  after  a  brief  examination,  he  said:  "He's 
dead — all  right,"  there  was  a  low,  hollow  sound  of  sym 
pathy  among  the  men  who  ten  minutes  before  would 
gladly  have  killed  him.  One  voice  spoke  for  all  the  rest. 

"Poor  lad!  He  was  a  broth  of  a  bhoy!  Poor  little 
Widdy  Hartigan." 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  ATMOSPHERE  OF  His  EARLY  DAYS 

THERE  were  many  surprises  and  sharp  contrasting 
colour  spots  on  the  map  of  the  "  Widdy's  "  trail  for 
the  next  nine  years.  With  herself  and  the  ex 
pected  child  to  make  a  home  for  after  that  mad  Orange 
Day,  she  had  sought  employment  and  had  been  welcomed 
back  to  the  hotel  where  she  had  ever  been  a  favourite. 

The  little  room  above  the  kitchen  which  projected  over 
the  yard  was  her  only  resting  place.  The  cheapest, 
simplest  of  wooden  furniture  was  all  it  held.  On  a  tiny 
stand,  made  of  a  packing  case,  was  her  Bible  and,  hanging 
over  it  a  daguerreotype  of  her  husband — his  frank, 
straight  gaze  and  happy  face  looking  forth  with  startling 
reality.  Outside  and  very  near,  for  the  building  was  low, 
the  one  window  looked  upon  the  yard  of  the  hotel,  with  its 
horses,  its  loafers,  its  hens  and  its  swine;  while  just  above 
the  shutter's  edge  a  row  of  swallows  had  their  nests,  where 
the  brooding  owners  twittered  in  the  early  summer  morn 
ing,  as  she  rose  with  the  sunrise  and  went  about  her  work. 
A  relief  at  first,  the  duties  Kitty  had  undertaken  grew 
heavier  with  the  months,  till  at  last  the  kindly  heart  of  the 
owner's  wife  was  touched,  and  a  new  regime  of  rest  ensued. 

Eight  months  after  that  fatal  Orange  Day,  James  Harti- 
gan,  Jr.,  was  born  in  the  little  room  over  the  yard;  and 

20 


ATMOSPHERE  OF  HIS  EARLY  DAYS        21 

baby  wailings  were  added  to  the  swallows'  chirps  and  the 
squeals  of  pigs.  Mother  Downey,  rough  and  rawboned 
to  the  eye,  now  appeared  in  guardian-angel  guise,  and  the 
widow's  heart  was  deeply  touched  by  the  big,  free  kindness 
that  events  had  discovered  in  the  folk  about  her.  Kitty 
was  of  vigorous  stock;  in  a  week  she  was  up,  in  a  fortnight 
seemed  well;  and  in  a  month  was  at  her  work,  with  little 
Jim — named  for  his  father  and  grandfather — in  hearing,  if 
not  in  sight. 

Then,  quite  suddenly,  Mrs.  Downey  died.  A  big,  gaunt 
woman,  she  had  the  look  of  strength;  but  the  strength  was 
not  there;  and  a  simple  malady  that  most  would  have 
shaken  off  was  more  than  she  could  fight.  With  her  hus 
band  and  Kitty  by  the  bed,  she  passed  away;  and  her  last 
words  were:  "Be  good — to — Kitty,  John — and — Little 
Jim." 

It  was  an  easy  promise  for  John  Downey  to  give  and  a 
pleasant  undertaking  to  live  up  to.  Before  his  wife  had 
been  dead  three  months,  John  Downey  had  assured  Kitty 
that  she  might  become  Mrs.  Downey  Number  Two  as  early 
as  she  pleased.  It  was  not  by  any  means  the  first  offer 
since  her  loss.  Indeed,  there  were  few  free  men  in  Links 
who  would  not  have  been  glad  to  marry  the  winsome, 
young,  energetic  widow. 

But  all  her  heart  was  on  her  boy,  and  until  she  could  see 
that  it  was  best  for  him  she  would  take  no  second  partner. 
Downey's  proposal  was  a  puzzle  to  her;  he  was  a  big, 
strong,  dull,  moderately  successful,  unattractive  man.  But 
he  had  a  good  business,  no  bad  habits,  and  was  deeply  in 
love  with  her. 


22     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

It  was  the  thought  of  little  Jim  that  settled  it.  Downey 
showed  genuine  affection  for  the  child.  To  give  him  a 
father,  to  have  him  well  educated — these  were  large  things 
to  Kitty  and  she  consented.  As  soon  as  the  late  Mrs. 
Downey  should  have  been  laid  away  for  six  months,  the 
wedding  was  to  be  and  Kitty  moved  to  other  lodgings 
meanwhile.  But  Fate's  plans  again  disagreed  with 
Kitty's.  A  few  weeks  after  her  consent,  the  town  was 
startled  by  the  news  that  John  Downey  was  dead.  A  cold 
—neglect  (for  he  did  not  know  how  to  be  sick),  and 
pneumonia.  The  folk  of  the  town  had  much  to  talk  of  for 
a  day,  and  the  dead  man's  will  gave  still  higher  speed  to 
their  tongues,  for  he  had  left  the  hotel  and  all  its  appurte 
nances  to  Widdy  Hartigan,  as  a  life  interest;  after  her  death 
it  was  to  go  to  a  kinsman.  Thus,  out  of  John  Downey's 
grave  there  grew  a  tree  with  much-needed  and  wholesome 
fruit. 

Now  Kitty  was  in  a  quandary.  She  was  an  abstainer 
from  choice  rather  than  principle;  but  she  was  deeply 
imbued  with  the  uncompromising  religion  of  her  Ulster 
forbears.  How  could  she  run  a  bar-room?  How  could 
she,  who  had  seen  the  horror  of  the  drink  madness,  have  a 
hand  in  setting  it  in  the  way  of  weak  ones?  Worst 
dilemma  of  all,  how  could  she  whose  religious  spirit  was 
dreaming  of  a  great  preacher  son,  bring  him  up  in  these 
surroundings — yet  how  refuse,  since  this  was  his  only 
chance? 

She  consulted  with  her  pastor;  and  this  was  the  con 
clusion  reached:  She  would  accept  the  providential  be 
quest.  Downey's  would  be  an  inn,  a  hotel;  not  a  bar-room. 


ATMOSPHERE  OF  HIS  EARLY  DAYS        23 

The  place  where  the  liquor  was  sold  should  be  absolutely 
apart,  walled  off;  and  these  new  rules  were  framed:  No 
minor  should  ever  be  served  there,  no  habitual  drunkard, 
no  man  who  already  had  had  enough.  Such  rules  in 
Canada  during  the  middle  of  last  century  were  considered 
revolutionary;  but  they  were  established  then,  and,  so  far 
as  Kitty  could  apply  them,  they  were  enforced;  and  they 
worked  a  steady  betterment. 

With  this  new  responsibility  upon  her,  the  inborn 
powers  of  Kitty  Hartigan  bloomed  forth.  Hers  was  the 
gift  of  sovereignty,  and  here  was  the  chance  to  rule.  The 
changes  came  but  slowly  at  first,  till  she  knew  the  ground. 
A  broken  pane,  a  weak  spot  in  the  roof,  a  leaky  horse 
trough,  and  a  score  of  little  things  were  repaired.  Ac 
count  books  of  a  crude  type  were  established,  and  soon  a 
big  leak  in  the  treasury  was  discovered  and  stopped;  and 
many  little  leaks  and  unpaid  bills  were  unearthed.  An 
aspiring  barkeeper  of  puzzling  methods  was,  much  to  his 
indignation,  hedged  about  by  daily  accountings  and,  last 
of  all,  a  thick  and  double  door  of  demarcation  was  made 
between  the  bar-room  and  the  house.  One  was  to  be  a  man's 
department,  a  purely  business  matter ;  the  other  a  place  apart 
— another  world  of  woollen  carpets  and  feminine  gentle 
ness,  a  place  removed  ten  miles  in  thought.  The  dwellers 
in  these  two  were  not  supposed  to  mix  or  even  to  meet,  ex 
cept  in  the  dining  room  three  times  a  day;  and  even  there 
some  hint  of  social  lines  was  apparent. 

In  former  times  the  hotel  had  been  a  mere  annex  of  the 
bar-room.  Now  the  case  was  reversed;  the  bar-room  be 
came  the  annex.  The  hotel  grew  as  Kitty's  power  de- 


24     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

veloped.  Good  food  temptingly  served  brought  many  to 
the  house  who  had  no  interest  in  the  annex.  Her  pies  made 
the  table  famous  and  were  among  the  many  things  that 
rendered  it  easy  to  displace  the  brown  marbled  oilcloth 
with  white  linen,  and  the  one  roller  towel  for  all,  with  in 
dividual  service  in  each  room. 

In  this  hotel  world  the  alert  young  widow  made  her 
court  and  ruled  as  a  queen.  Here  little  Jim  slept  away  his 
babyhood  and  grew  to  consciousness  with  sounds  of  com 
ing  horses,  going  wheels;  of  chicken  calls  and  twittering 
swallows  in  their  nests;  shouts  of  men  and  the  clatter  of  tin 
pails;  the  distant  song  of  saw  mills  and  their  noontide 
whistles;  smells  of  stables  mixed  with  the  sweet  breathings 
of  oxen  and  the  pungent  odour  of  pine  gum  from  new-sawn 
boards. 

And  ever  as  he  grew,  he  loved  the  more  to  steal  from  his 
mother's  view  and  be  with  the  stable  hands — loving  the 
stable,  loving  the  horses,  loving  the  men  that  were  horse 
men  in  any  sort,  and  indulged  and  spoiled  by  them  in  turn. 
The  widow  was  a  winner  of  hearts  whom  not  even  the 
wife  of  Tom  Ford,  the  rich  millman  and  mayor  of  the 
town,  could  rival  in  social  power,  so  Jim,  as  the  heir  appar 
ent,  grew  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  importance  that  did  him 
little  good. 


CHAPTER  V 
LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS 

WHISKEY"  MASON  had  been  for  more  than 
three  years  with  Downey.  He  was  an  adroit 
barkeep.  He  knew  every  favourite  "mix" 
and  how  to  use  the  thickest  glasses  that  would  ever  put 
the  house  a  little  more  ahead  of  the  game.  But  the 
Widow  soon  convinced  herself  that  certain  rumours  already 
hinted  at  were  well-founded,  and  that  Mason's  salary  did 
not  justify  his  Sunday  magnificence.  Mason  had  long 
been  quite  convinced  that  he  was  the  backbone  of  the 
business  and  absolutely  indispensable.  Therefore  he  was 
not  a  little  surprised  when  the  queen,  in  the  beginning 
of  her  reign,  invited  him  to  resign  his  portfolio  and  seek 
his  fortune  elsewhere,  the  farther  off  the  better  to  her 
liking. 

Mason  went  not  far,  but  scornfully.  He  took  lodgings 
in  the  town  to  wait  and  see  the  inevitable  wreck  that  the 
widow  was  inviting  for  her  house.  For  two  months  he 
waited,  but  was  disappointed.  The  hotel  continued  in 
business;  the  widow  had  not  come  to  beg  for  his  return; 
his  credit  was  being  injured  with  excessive  use;  and  as  he 
had  found  no  other  work,  he  took  the  stage  to  the  larger 
town  of  Petersburg  some  thirty  miles  away.  Here  he 
sought  a  job,  in  his  special  craft  of  "joy  mixer"  but,  failing 

25 


26     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

to  find  that,  he  turned  his  attention  to  another  near  akin. 
In  those  days  the  liquor  laws  of  Canada  provided  a  heavy 
fine  for  any  breach  of  regulation;  and  of  this  the  informant 
got  half.  Here  was  an  easy  and  honourable  calling  for 
which  he  was  well  equipped. 


It  has  ever  been  law  in  the  man's  code  that  he  must  pro 
tect  the  place  he  drinks  in,  so  that  the  keepers  of  these  evil 
joints  are  often  careless  over  little  lapses.  Thus  Whiskey 
Mason  easily  found  a  victim,  and  within  three  days  was 
rich  once  more  with  half  of  the  thousand-dollar  fine  that 
the  magistrate  imposed. 

He  felt  that  all  the  country  suddenly  was  his  lawful  prey. 
He  could  not  long  remain  in  Petersburg,  where  he  was  soon 
well  known  and  shunned.  He  had  some  trouble,  too,  for 
threats  against  his  life  began  to  reach  him  more  and  more. 
It  was  the  magistrate  himself  who  suggested  contempt 
uously,  "You  had  better  take  out  a  pistol  license,  my 
friend;  and  you  would  be  safer  in  a  town  where  no  one 
knows  you." 

In  those  early  days  before  his  dismissal  by  Kitty, 
Mason's  life  and  Little  Jim's  had  no  point  of  meeting. 
Six  years  later,  when  he  returned  to  Links,  Jimmy  was  dis 
covering  great  possibilities  in  the  stables  of  the  Inn. 
Mason  often  called  at  the  bar-room  where  he  had  once 
been  the  ruling  figure,  and  was  received  with  cold  aloofness. 
But  he  was  used  to  that;  his  calling  had  hardened  him  to 
any  amount  of  human  scorn.  He  still  found  a  kindred 
spirit,  however,  in  the  stable  man,  Watsie  Hall,  and  these 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  27 

two  would  often  "visit"  in  the  feed  room,  which  was  a 
favourite  playground  of  the  bright-haired  boy. 

It  is  always  funny  if  one  can  inspire  terror  without 
actual  danger  to  the  victim.  Mason  and  Hall  taught  Jim 
to  throw  stones  at  sparrows,  cats,  and  dogs,  when  his 
mother  was  not  looking.  He  hardly  ever  hit  them,  and  his 
hardest  throw  was  harmless,  but  he  learned  to  love  the 
sport.  A  stray  dog  that  persisted  in  stealing  scraps  which 
were  by  right  the  heritage  of  hens,  was  listed  as  an  enemy, 
and  together  they  showed  Jim  how  to  tie  a  tin  can  on  the 
dog's  tail  in  a  manner  that  produced  amazingly  funny  re 
sults  and  the  final  disappearance  of  the  cur  in  a  chorus  of 
frantic  yelps. 

These  laboratory  experiments  on  animals  developed 
under  the  able  tutors,  and  Jim  was  instructed  in  the  cat's 
war  dance,  an  ingenious  mode  of  inspiring  puss  to  outdo 
her  own  matchless  activity  in  a  series  of  wild  gyrations,  by 
glueing  to  each  foot  a  shoe  of  walnut  shell,  half  filled  with 
melted  cobbler's  wax  to  hold  it  on.  Flattered  by  their 
attentions  at  first,  the  cat  purred  blandly  as  they  fitted  on 
the  shoes.  Jim's  eyes  were  big  and  bright  with  tensest  in 
terest.  The  cat  was  turned  loose  in  the  grain  room.  To 
hear  her  own  soft  pads  drop  on  the  floor,  each  with  a  sharp, 
hard  crack,  must  have  been  a  curious,  jarring  experience. 
To  find  at  every  step  a  novel  sense  of  being  locked  in,  must 
have  conjured  up  deep  apprehensions  in  her  soul.  And 
when  she  fled,  and  sought  to  scale  the  partition,  to  find  that 
her  claws  were  gone — that  she  was  now  a  thing  with  hoofs — 
must  have  been  a  horrid  nightmare.  Fear  entered  into 
her  soul,  took  full  control;  then  followed  the  wild  erratic 


28     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

circling  around  the  room,  with  various  ridiculous  attempts 
to  run  up  the  walls,  which  were  so  insanely  silly  that  little 
James  shrieked  for  joy,  and  joining  in  with  the  broom, 
urged  the  cat  to  still  more  amazing  evidences  of  muscular 
activity  not  excelled  by  any  other  creature. 

It  was  rare  sport  with  just  a  sense  of  sin  to  give  it  tang, 
for  he  had  been  forbidden  to  torment  the  cat,  and  Jim  saw 
nothing  but  the  funny  side;  he  was  only  seven. 

It  was  a  week  later  that  they  tried  the  walnut  trick 
again,  and  Jim  was  eager  to  see  the  "circus."  But  the  cat 
remembered;  she  drove  her  teeth  deep  into  Hall's  hand  and 
fought  with  a  feline  fury  that  is  always  terrifying.  Jim 
was  gazing  in  big-eyed  silence,  when  Hall,  enraged,  thrust 
the  cat  into  the  leg  of  a  boot  and  growled,  "I'll  fix  yer  bit 
ing,"  and  held  her  teeth  to  the  grindstone  till  the  body  in 
the  boot  was  limp. 

At  the  first  screech  of  the  cat,  Jim's  whole  attitude  had 
changed.  Amusement  and  wild-eyed  wonder  had  given 
way  to  a  shocking  realization  of  the  wicked  cruelty.  He 
sprang  at  Hall  and  struck  him  with  all  the  best  vigour 
of  his  baby  fists.  "  Let  my  kitty  go,  you ! "  and  he  kicked  the 
hostler  in  the  shins  until  he  himself  was  driven  away.  He 
fled  indoors  to  his  mother,  flung  himself  into  her  arms  and 
sobbed  in  newly  awakened  horror.  To  his  dying  day  he 
never  forgot  that  cry  of  pain.  He  had  been  in  the  way  of 
cruel  training  with  these  men,  but  the  climax  woke  him  up. 
It  was  said  that  he  never  after  was  cruel  to  any  creature, 
but  this  is  sure — that  he  never  after  cared  to  be  with  cats 
of  any  sort. 

This  was  the  end  of  Hall,  so  far  as  his  life  had  bearing  on 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  29 

that  of  James  Hartigan  Second;  for  Kitty  dismissed  him 
promptly  as  soon  as  she  heard  the  story  of  his  brutality. 


Of  all  the  specimens  of  fine,  physical  manhood  who  owned 
allegiance  to  Downey's  Hotel,  Fightin'  Bill  Kenna  was  the 
outstanding  figure.  He  was  not  so  big  as  Mulcahy,  or 
such  a  wrestler  as  Dougherty,  or  as  skilled  a  boxer  as 
McGraw;  he  knew  little  of  the  singlestick  and  nothing  of 
knife-  or  gun-play;  and  yet  his  combination  of  strength^ 
endurance  and  bullet-headed  pluck  made  him  by  general 
voice  "the  best  man  in  Links." 

Bill's  temper  was  fiery;  he  loved  a  fight.  He  never  was 
worsted,  the  nearest  thing  to  it  being  a  draw  between  himself 
and  Terry  Barr.  After  that  Terry  went  to  the  States  and 
became  a  professional  pugilist  of  note.  Bill's  social  record 
was  not  without  blemish.  He  was  known  to  have  ap 
propriated  a  rope,  to  the  far  end  of  which  was  attached  an 
other  man's  horse.  He  certainly  had  been  in  jail  once  and 
should  have  been  there  a  dozen  times,  for  worse  crimes 
than  fighting.  And  yet  Bill  was  firmly  established  as 
Bible  bearer  in  the  annual  Orangemen's  parade  and  would 
have  smashed  the  face  of  any  man  who  tried  to  rob  him  of 
his  holy  office. 

Kenna  was  supposed  to  be  a  farmer,  but  he  loved  neither 
crops  nor  land.  The  dream  of  his  exuberant  life  was  to  be 
a  horse  breeder,  for  which  profession  he  had  neither  the 
capital  nor  the  brains.  His  social  and  convivial  instincts 
ever  haled  him  townward,  and  a  well-worn  chair  in 
Downey's  bar-room  was  by  prescriptive  right  the  town  seat 


30     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

of  William  Kenna,  Esq.,  of  the  Township  of  Opulenta. 
Bill  had  three  other  good  qualities  besides  his  mighty  fists. 
He  was  true  to  his  friends,  he  was  kind  to  the  poor  and  he 
had  great  respect  for  his  "wurd  as  a  mahn."  If  he  gave 
his  "wurd  as  a  mahn"  to  do  thus  and  so,  he  ever  made  a 
strenuous  effort  to  keep  it. 

Bill  was  madly  in  love  with  Kitty  Hartigan.  She  was 
not  unmoved  by  the  huge  manliness  of  the  warlike 
William,  but  she  had  too  much  sense  to  overlook  his  fail 
ings,  and  she  held  him  off  as  she  did  a  dozen  more — her  de 
voted  lovers  all — who  hung  around  ever  hoping  for 
special  favour.  But  though  Kitty  would  not  marry  him, 
she  smiled  on  Kenna  indulgently  and  thus  it  was  that  this 
man  of  brawn  had  far  too  much  to  say  in  shaping  the  life  of 
little  Jim  Hartigan.  High  wisdom  or  deep  sagacity  was 
scarcely  to  be  named  among  Kenna's  attributes,  and  yet 
instinctively  he  noted  that  the  surest  way  to  the  widow's 
heart  was  through  her  boy.  This  explained  the  beginning 
of  their  friendship,  but  other  things  soon  entered  in. 
Kenna,  with  all  his  faults,  was  a  respecter  of  women,  and — 
they  commonly  go  together — a  clumsy,  awkward,  blunder 
ing  lover  of  children.  Little  Jim  was  bright  enough  to  in 
terest  any  one;  and,  with  the  certain  instinct  of  a  child,  he 
drifted  toward  the  man  whose  heart  was  open  to  him. 
Many  a  day,  as  Kenna  split  some  blocks  of  wood  that  were 
over  big  and  knotty  for  the  official  axeman,  Jim  would 
come  to  watch  and  marvel  at  the  mighty  blows.  His  com 
ments  told  of  the  imaginative  power  born  in  his  Celtic 
blood : 

"Bill,  let's  play  you  are  the  Red  Dermid  smiting  the 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  31 

bullhide  bearing  Lachlin,"  he  would  shout,  and  at  once  the 
brightness  of  his  mental  picture  and  his  familiarity  with  the 
nursery  tales  of  Erin  that  were  current  even  in  the  woods 
created  a  wonder-world  about  him.  Then  his  Ulster 
mind  would  speak.  He  would  laugh  a  little  shamefaced 
chuckle  at  himself  and  say: 

"It's  only  Big  Bill  Kenna  splitting  wood." 

Bill  was  one  of  the  few  men  who  talked  to  Jim  about  his 
father;  and,  with  singular  delicacy,  he  ever  avoided  men 
tioning  the  nauseating  fact  that  the  father  was  a  papist. 
No  one  who  has  not  lived  in  the  time  and  place  of  these 
feuds  can  understand  the  unspeakable  abomination  im 
plied  by  that  word;  it  was  the  barrier  that  kept  his  other 
friends  from  mention  of  the  dead  man's  name;  and  yet, 
Bill  spoke  with  kindly  reverence  of  him  as,  "a  broth  of  a 
bhoy,  a  good  mahn,  afraid  of  no  wan,  and  as  straight  as  a 
string." 

Among  the  occasional  visitors  at  the  stable  yard  was 
young  Tom  Ford,  whose  father  owned  the  mill  and  half  the 
town.  Like  his  father,  Tom  was  a  masterful  person,  hungry 
for  power  and  ready  to  rule  by  force.  On  the  occasion  of 
his  first  visit  he  had  quarrelled  with  Jim,  and  being  older 
and  stronger,  had  won  their  boyish  fight.  It  was  in  the 
hour  of  his  humiliation  that  Kenna  had  taken  Jim  on  his 
knee  and  said: 

"Now  Jim,  I'm  the  lepricaun  that  can  tache  you  magic 
to  lick  that  fellow  aisy,  if  ye'll  do  what  I  tell  you."  And  at 
the  word  "lepricaun,"  the  Celt  in  Jim  rose  mightier  than 
the  fighting,  bullet-headed  Saxon.  His  eager  word  and 
look  were  enough. 


32     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Now,  listen,  bhoy.  I'll  put  the  boxing  gloves  on  you 
every  day,  an'  I'll  put  up  a  sack  of  oats,  an'  we'll  call  it  Tom 
Ford;  an'  ye  must  hit  that  sack  wi'  yer  fist  every  day  wan 
hundred  times,  twenty-five  on  the  top  side  and  siventy- 
five  on  the  bottom  side  for  the  undercut  is  worth  more 
than  the  uppercut  anny  day;  an'  when  ye've  done  that,  ye're 
making  magic,  and  at  the  end  of  the  moon  ye'll  be  able  to 
lick  Tom  Ford." 

Jim  began  with  all  his  ten-year-old  vigour  to  make  the 
necessary  magic,  and  had  received  Bill's  unqualified 
approval  until  one  day  he  appeared  chewing  something 
given  him  by  one  of  the  men  as  a  joke.  Jim  paused  before 
Bill  and  spat  out  a  brown  fluid. 

"Fwhat  are  ye  doing?"  said  Bill;  then  to  his  disgust,  he 
found  that  Jim,  inspired  probably  by  his  own  example,  was 
chewing  tobacco. 

"Spit  it  out,  ye  little  divil,  an'  never  agin  do  that.  If  ye 
do  that  three  times  before  ye're  twenty-one,  ye'll  make 
a  spell  that  will  break  you,  an'  ye'll  never  lick  Tom 
Ford." 

Thus,  with  no  high  motive,  Kenna  was  in  many  ways, 
the  guardian  of  the  child.  Coarse,  brutish,  and  fierce 
among  men,  he  was  ever  good  to  the  boy  and  respectful  to 
his  mother;  and  he  rounded  out  his  teaching  by  the 
doctrine:  "If  ye  give  yer  word  as  a  mahn,  ye  must  not  let 
all  hell  prevent  ye  holding  to  it."  And  he  whispered  in  a 
dreadful  tone  that  sent  a  chill  through  the  youngster's 
blood:  "It'll  bring  the  bone-rot  on  ye  if  ye  fail;  it  always 
does." 

It  is  unfortunate  that  we  cannot  number  the  town  school 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  33 

principal  as  a  large  maker  of  Jim's  mind.  Jim  went  to 
school  and  the  teacher  did  the  best  he  could.  He  learned 
to  read,  to  write  and  to  figure,  but  books  irked  him  and 
held  no  lure.  His  joy  was  in  the  stable  yard  and  the  barn 
where  dwelt  those  men  of  muscle  and  of  animal  mind; 
where  the  boxing  gloves  were  in  nightly  use,  the  horses  in 
daily  sight,  and  the  world  of  sport  in  ring  or  on  turf  was 
the  only  world  worth  any  man's  devotion. 

There  were  a  dozen  other  persons  who  had  influence  in 
the  shaping  of  the  life  and  mind  of  Little  Jim  Hartigan; 
but  there  was  one  that  overpowered,  that  far  outweighed, 
that  almost  negatived  the  rest;  that  was  his  mother.  She 
could  scarcely  read,  and  all  the  reading  she  ever  tried  to  do 
was  in  her  Bible.  Filled  with  the  vision  of  what  she 
wished  her  boy  to  be — a  minister  of  Christ — Kitty  sent  him 
to  the  public  school,  but  the  colour  of  his  mind  was  given 
at  home.  She  told  him  the  stories  of  the  Man  of  Galilee, 
and  on  Sundays,  hand  in  hand,  they  went  to  the  Presby 
terian  Church,  to  listen  to  tedious  details  that  illustrated 
the  practical  impossibility  of  any  one  really  winning  out  in 
the  fight  with  sin. 

She  sang  the  nursery  songs  of  the  old  land  and  told  the 
tales  of  magic  that  made  his  eyes  stare  wide  with  loving, 
childish  wonder.  She  told  him  what  a  brave,  kind  man 
his  father  had  been,  and  ever  came  back  to  the  world's 
great  Messenger  of  Love.  Not  openly,  but  a  thousand 
times — in  a  thousand  deeply  felt,  deeply  meant,  unspoken 
ways — she  made  him  know  that  the  noblest  calling  man 
might  ever  claim  was  this,  to  be  a  herald  of  the  Kingdom. 
Alone,  on  her  knees,  she  would  pray  that  her  boy  might  be 


34     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

elected  to  that  great  estate  and  that  she  might  live  to  see 
him  going  forth  a  messenger  of  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

Kitty  was  alive  to  the  danger  of  the  inherited  taste  for 
drink  in  her  son.  The  stern,  uncompromising  Presbyterian 
minister  of  the  town,  in  whose  church  the  widow  had  a  pew, 
was  temperate,  but  not  an  abstainer;  in  fact,  it  was  his 
custom  to  close  the  day  with  a  short  prayer  and  a  tall  glass 
of  whiskey  and  water.  While,  with  his  advice,  she  had  en 
tirely  buried  her  doctrinal  scruples  on  the  selling  of  drink  to 
the  moderate,  her  mother-heart  was  not  so  easily  put  to  sleep. 
Her  boy  belonged  to  the  house  side  of  the  hotel.  He  was 
not  supposed  to  enter  the  saloon;  and  when,  one  day,  she 
found  an  unscrupulous  barkeeper  actually  amusing  him 
self  by  giving  the  child  a  taste  of  the  liquid  fire,  she  acted 
with  her  usual  promptitude  and  vigour.  The  man  was  given 
just  enough  time  to  get  his  hat  and  coat,  and  the  boy  was 
absolutely  forbidden  the  left  wing  of  the  house.  Later,  in 
the  little  room  where  he  was  born,  she  told  Jim  sadly  and 
gently  what  it  would  mean,  what  suffering  the  drinking 
habit  had  brought  upon  herself,  and  thus,  for  the  first  time, 
he  learned  that  this  had  been  the  cause  of  his  father's 
death.  The  boy  was  deeply  moved  and  voluntarily  offered 
to  pledge  himself  never  to  touch  a  drop  again  so  long  as  he 
lived.  But  his  mother  wisely  said: 

"No,  Jim;  don't  say  it  that  way.  Leaning  backward 
will  not  make  you  safer  from  a  fall;  only  promise  me  you'll 
never  touch  it  till  you  are  eighteen;  then  I  know  you  will  be 
safe." 

And  he  promised  her  that  he  never  would;  he  gave  his 
word — no  more;  for  already  the  rough  and  vigorous  teach- 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  35 

ing  of  Bill  Kenna  had  gripped  him  in  some  sort.  He  felt 
that  there  was  no  more  binding  seal;  that  any  more  was 
more  than  man  should  give. 

When  Jim  was  twelve  he  was  very  tall  and  strong  for  his 
age,  and  almost  too  beautiful  for  a  boy.  His  mother,  of 
course,  was  idolatrous  in  her  love.  His  ready  tongue,  his 
gift  of  reciting  funny  or  heroic  verse,  and  his  happy  moods 
had  made  him  a  general  favourite,  the  king  of  the  stable 
yard.  Abetted,  inspired  and  trained  by  Kenna,  he  figured 
in  many  a  boyish  fight,  and  usually  won  so  that  he  was  not 
a  little  pleased  with  himself  in  almost  every  way.  Had  he 
not  carried  out  his  promise  of  two  years  before  and 
thrashed  the  mayor's  son,  who  was  a  year  older  than  him 
self,  and  thereby  taught  a  lesson  to  that  stuck-up,  purse- 
proud  youngster?  Could  he  not  ride  with  any  man? 
Yes,  and  one  might  add,  match  tongues  with  any  woman. 
For  his  native  glibness  was  doubly  helped  by  the  vast,  un 
printable  vocabularies  of  his  chosen  world,  as  well  as  by 
choice  phrases  from  heroic  verse  that  were  a  more  exact 
reflex  of  his  mind. 

Then,  on  a  day,  came  Whiskey  Mason  drifting  into 
Links  once  more.  He  was  making  an  ever  scantier  living 
out  of  his  wretched  calling,  and  had  sunk  as  low  as  he 
could  sink.  But  he  had  learned  a  dozen  clever  tricks  to 
make  new  victims. 

At  exactly  eleven  o'clock,  P.M.,  the  bar-room  had  been 
closed,  as  was  by  law  required.  At  exactly  eleven  five,  P.M. 
a  traveller,  sick  and  weak,  supported  by  a  friend,  came 
slowly  along  the  dusty  road  to  the  door,  and,  sinking  down 
in  agony  of  cramps,  protested  he  could  go  no  farther  and 


36     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

begged  for  a  little  brandy,  as  his  friend  knocked  on  the 
door,  imploring  kindly  aid  for  the  love  of  heaven.  The  bar 
keeper  was  obdurate,  but  the  man  was  in  such  a  desperate 
plight  that  the  Widow  Hartigan  was  summoned.  Ever 
ready  at  the  call  of  trouble  her  kindly  heart  responded. 
The  sick  man  revived  with  a  little  brandy;  his  friend,  too, 
seemed  in  need  of  similar  help  and,  uttering  voluble  expres 
sions  of  gratitude,  the  travellers  went  on  to  lodgings  on  the 
other  side  of  the  town,  carrying  with  them  a  flask  in  which 
was  enough  of  the  medicine  to  meet  a  new  attack  if  one 
should  come  before  they  reached  their  destination. 

At  exactly  eleven  ten,  P.M.,  these  two  helpless,  harmless 
strangers  received  the  flask  from  Widow  Hartigan.  At 
exactly  eight  A.M.,  the  next  day,-  at  the  opening  of  the 
Magistrate's  office,  they  laid  their  information  before  him, 
that  the  Widow  Hartigan  was  selling  liquor  out  of  hours. 
Here  was  the  witness  and  here  was  the  flask.  They  had 
not  paid  for  this,  they  admitted,  but  said  it  had  been 
"  charged."  All  the  town  was  in  a  talk.  The  papers  were 
served,  and  on  the  following  day,  in  court,  before  Tom 
Ford,  the  Mayor,  the  charge  was  made  and  sworn  to  by 
Mason,  who  received,  and  Hall,  who  witnessed  and  also 
received,  the  unlawful  drink. 

It  was  so  evidently  a  trumped-up  case  that  some  judges 
would  have  dismissed  it.  But  the  Mayor  was  human; 
this  woman  had  flouted  his  wife;  her  boy  had  licked  his 
boy.  The  fine  might  be  anything  from  one  hundred  up  to 
one  thousand  dollars.  The  Mayor  was  magnanimous;  he 
imposed  the  minimum  fine.  So  the  widow  was  mulcted  a 
hundred  dollars  for  playing  the  role  of  good  Samaritan. 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  37 

Mason  and  Hall  got  fifty  dollars  to  divide,  and  five  min 
utes  later  were  speeding  out  of  town.  They  left  no  ad 
dress.  In  this  precautionary  mood  their  instincts  were 
right,  though  later  events  proved  them  to  be  without 
avail. 

Just  one  hour  after  the  disappearance  of  Mason,  Kenna 
came  to  town  and  heard  how  the  Widow's  open-hearted 
kindness  had  led  her  into  a  snare.  His  first  question  was: 
" Where  is  he?"  No  one  knew,  but  every  one  agreed  that 
he  had  gone  in  a  hurry.  Now  it  is  well  known  that  ex 
perienced  men  seeking  to  elude  discovery  make  either  for 
the  absolute  wilderness  or  else  the  nearest  big  city. 
There  is  no  hiding  place  between.  Kenna  did  not  consult 
Kitty.  He  rode  as  fast  as  horse  could  bear  his  robust  bulk 
to  Petersburg  where  Mason  had  in  some  sort  his  head 
quarters. 

It  was  noon  the  next  day  before  Bill  found  him,  sitting  in 
the  far  end  of  the  hardware  shop.  Mason  never  sat  in  the 
saloons,  for  the  barkeepers  would  not  have  him  there.  He 
idid  not  loom  large,  for  he  always  tried  to  be  as  incon 
spicuous  as  possible,  and  his  glance  was  shifty. 

Bill  nodded  to  the  iron  dealer  and  passed  back  to  the 
stove  end  of  the  store.  Yes,  there  sat  Mason.  They 
recognized  each  other.  The  whiskey  sneak  rose  in  trepida 
tion.  But  William  said  calmly,  "Sit  down." 

"Well,"  he  continued  with  a  laugh,  "I  hear  you  got 
ahead  of  the  Widdy." 

"Yeh." 

"Well,  she  can  afford  it,"  said  Bill.     "She's  getting  rich." 

Mason  breathed  more  freely. 


3 8      THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"I  should  think  ye'd  carry  a  revolver  in  such  a  business," 
said  William,  inquiringly. 

"Bet  I  do,"  said  Mason. 

"Let's  have  a  look  at  it,"  said  Kenna.  Mason  hesi 
tated. 

"Ye  better  let  me  see  it,  or "  There  was  a  note  of 

threat  for  the  first  time.  Mason  drew  his  revolver,  some 
what  bewildered.  Before  the  informer  knew  what  move 
was  best,  Kenna  reached  out  and  took  the  weapon. 

"I  hear  ye  got  twenty-five  dollars  from  the  Widdy." 

"Yeh."  And  Mason  began  to  move  nervously  under 
the  cold  glitter  in  Kenna's  eyes. 

"  I  want  ye  to  donate  that  to  the  orphan  asylum.  Here, 
Jack!"  Kenna  called  to  the  clerk,  "Write  on  a  big  envelope 
*  Donation  for  the  orphan  asylum.  Conscience  money." 

"What  does  it  say?"  inquired  Bill,  for  he  could  not  read. 
The  clerk  held  out  the  envelope  and  read  the  inscription. 

"All  right,"  said  Bill,  "now,  Mason,  jest  so  I  won't  lose 
patience  with  you  and  act  rough  like,  hand  over  that 
twenty-five." 

"I  ain't  got  it,  I  tell  you.     It's  all  gone." 

"Turn  out  your  pockets,  or  I  will." 

The  whiskey  sneak  unwillingly  turned  out  his  pockets. 
He  had  fifteen  dollars  and  odd. 

"Put  it  in  that  there  envelope,"  said  Bill,  with  growing 
ferocity.  "Now  gum  it  up.  Here,  Jack,  will  ye  kindly 
drop  this  in  the  contribution  box  for  the  orphans  while  we 
watch  you?"  The  clerk  entered  into  the  humour  of  it  all. 
He  ran  across  the  street  to  the  gate  of  the  orphan  asylum 
and  dropped  the  envelope  into  the  box.  Mason  tried  to 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  39 

escape  but  Bill's  mighty  hand  was  laid  on  his  collar.  And 
now  the  storm  of  animal  rage  pent  up  in  him  for  so  long 
broke  forth.  He  used  no  weapon  but  his  fists,  and  when 
the  doctor  came,  he  thought  the  whiskey  man  was  dead. 
But  they  brought  him  round,  and  in  the  hospital  he 
lingered  long. 

It  was  clearly  a  case  of  grave  assault;  the  magistrate  was 
ready  to  issue  a  warrant  for  Kenna's  arrest.  But  such  was 
Bill's  reputation  that  they  could  get  no  constable  to  serve 
it.  Meanwhile,  Mason  hung  between  life  and  death.  He 
did  not  die.  Within  six  weeks,  he  was  able  to  sit  up  and 
take  a  feeble  interest  in  things  about  him,  while  Bill  at 
Links  pursued  his  normal  life. 

Gossip  about  the  affair  had  almost  died  when  the  Mayor 
at  Petersburg  received  a  document  that  made  him  start. 
The  Attorney  General  of  the  Province  wrote :  "Why  have 
you  not  arrested  the  man  who  committed  that  assault? 
Why  has  no  effort  been  made  to  administer  justice?** 

The  Mayor  was  an  independent  business  man,  seeking 
no  political  favours,  and  he  sent  a  very  curt  reply.  "You 
had  better  come  and  arrest  him  yourself,  if  you  are  so  set 


on  it." 


That  was  why  two  broad,  square  men,  with  steadfast 
eyes,  came  one  day  into  Links.  They  sought  out  Bill 
Kenna  and  found  him  in  the  bar-room,  lifting  the  billiard 
table  with  one  hand,  as  another  man  slipped  wedges  under 
it  to  correct  the  level.  Little  Jim,  though  he  had  no  business 
there  at  all,  stood  on  the  table  itself  and  gave  an  abundance 
of  orders. 

"Are  you  William  Kenna  ? "  said  the  first  of  the  strangers. 


40     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

•"I  am  that,"  said  he. 

"Then  I  arrest  you  in  the  Queen's  name";  and  the 
officer  held  up  a  paper  while  the  other  produced  a  pair  of 
handcuffs. 

"Oi'd  like  to  see  ye  put  them  on  me."  And  the  flood  of 
fight  in  him  surged  up. 

He  was  covered  by  two  big  revolvers  now,  which  argu 
ment  had  no  whit  of  power  to  modify  his  mood;  but  an 
other  factor  had.  The  Widow  who  had  entered  in  search 
of  Jim  and  knew  the  tragedy  that  hung  by  a  hair,  sped  to 
his  side :  "  Now,  Bill,  don't  ye  do  it !  I  forbid  ye  to  do  it !" 

"If  they  try  to  put  them  on  me,  I'll  kill  or  be  killed.  If 
they  jist  act  dacent,  I'll  go  quiet." 

"Will  ye  give  yer  word,  Bill?" 

"I  will,  Kitty;  I'll  give  me  word  as  a  mahn.  I'll  go 
peaceable  if  they  don't  try  to  handcuff  me." 

"There,"  said  Kitty  to  the  officers.  "He's  give  his 
word;  and  if  you're  wise,  ye'll  take  him  at  that." 

"All  right,"  said  the  chief  constable,  and  between  them 
William  moved  to  the  door. 

"Say,  Bill,  ye  ain't  going  to  be  took?"  piped  little  Jim. 
He  had  watched  the  scene  dumbfounded  from  his  place  on 
the  table.  This  was  too  much. 

"Yes,"  said  Bill,  "I've  give  me  word  as  a  mahn,"  and  he 
marched  away,  while  the  Widow  fled  sobbing  to  her  room. 

That  was  the  end  of  Kenna,  so  far  as  Jim  was  concerned. 
And,  somehow,  that  last  sentence,  "I've  give  me  word  as  a 
mahn,"  kept  ringing  in  Jim's  ears;  it  helped  to  offset  the 
brutalizing  effect  of  many  other  episodes — that  Fighting 
Bill  should  scoff  at  bonds  and  force,  but  be  bound  and 


LITTLE  JIM'S  TUTORS  41 

helpless  by  the  little  sound  that  issued  from  his  own 
lips. 

Bill's  after  life  was  brief.  He  was  condemned  to  a  year 
in  jail  for  deadly  assault  and  served  the  term  and  came 
again  to  Petersburg.  There  in  a  bar-room  he  encountered 
Hall,  the  pal  of  Whisky  Mason.  A  savage  word  from  Bill 
provoked  the  sneer,  "You  jail  bird/'  Kenna  sprang  to 
avenge  the  insult.  Hall  escaped  behind  the  bar.  Bill  still 
pursued.  Then  Hall  drew  a  pistol  and  shot  him  dead;  and, 
as  the  Courts  held  later,  shot  justly,  for  a  man  may  defend 
his  life. 

It  was  a  large  funeral  that  buried  Bill,  and  it  was  openly 
and  widely  said  that  nine  out  of  ten  were  there  merely  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  dead  and  buried.  The  Widow  Har- 
tigan  was  chief  mourner  in  the  first  carriage.  She  and  Jim 
led  the  line,  and  when  he  was  laid  away,  she  had  a  stone 
erected  with  the  words,  "A  true  friend  and  a  man  without 
fear."  So  passed  Kenna;  but  Jim  bore  the  traces  of  his 
influence  long  and  deeply — yes,  all  his  life.  Masterful, 
physical,  prone  to  fight  and  to  consider  might  as  right,  yet 
Jim's  judgment  of  him  was  ever  tempered  by  the  one 
thought,  the  binding  force  of  his  "wurd  as  a  mahn." 


CHAPTER  VI 
JIM   LOSES   EVERYTHING 

V  •  ^HE  Widow  never  forgot  that  her  tenure  of  the  hotel 
might  end  at  any  time;  and,  thinking  ever  of  Jim 

.A  and  his  future,  she  saved  what  she  could  from  the 
weekly  proceeds.  She  was  a  good  manager,  and  each 
month  saw  something  added  to  her  bank  account.  When 
it  had  grown  to  a  considerable  size  her  friends  advised  her 
to  invest  it.  There  were  Government  bonds  paying  five 
per  cent.,  local  banks  paying  six  and  seven,  and,  last  of  all, 
the  Consolidated  Trading  Stores  paying  eight  and  some 
times  more — an  enterprise  of  which  Tom  Ford  was  head. 

The  high  interest  was  tempting,  and  pride  was  not  with 
out  some  power.  Kitty  was  pleased  to  think  that  now  she 
could  go  to  the  pompous  Mayor  as  a  capitalist.  So,  creat 
ing  with  an  inward  sense  of  triumph  the  impression  of  huge 
deposits  elsewhere,  she  announced  that  she  would  take  a 
small  block  of  stock  in  the  C.  T.  S.  as  a  nest-egg  for  her  boy. 
Thus  the  accumulations  of  ten  years  went  into  the  company 
of  which  the  Mayor  was  head  and  guide.  For  a  time,  the 
interest  was  duly  paid  each  half  year.  Then  came  a  crash. 
After  the  reorganization  the  Mayor  continued  in  his  big 
brick  house  and  his  wife  still  wore  her  diamonds;  but  the 
widow's  hard-earned  savings  were  gone.  Kitty  was 
stunned  but  game;  falling  back  on  the  strength  that  was  in- 

42 


JIM  LOSES  EVERYTHING  43 

side,  she  bravely  determined  to  begin  all  over  and  build  on 
a  rock  of  safety.  But  fortune  had  another  blow  in  store 
for  Jim.  And  it  fell  within  a  month,  just  as  he  turned 
thirteen. 

It  was  the  end  of  the  Canadian  winter.  Fierce  frost  and 
sudden  thaw  were  alternated  as  the  north  wind  and  the 
south  struggled  for  the  woods,  and  the  heat  of  wbrk  in  the 
warm  sun  left  many  ill  prepared  for  the  onset  of  bitter 
cold  at  dusk.  Bustling  everywhere,  seeing  that  pigs  were 
fed,  pies  made,  and  clothes  mended;  now  in  the  hot 
kitchen,  a  moment  later  in  the  stable  yard  to  manage 
some  new  situation;  the  Widow  fell  a  victim  to  pneumonia 
much  as  John  Downey  had  done. 

For  three  days  she  lay  in  fever  and  pain.  Jim  was 
scarcely  allowed  to  see  her.  They  did  not  understand 
pneumonia  in  those  days,  and  as  it  was  the  general  belief 
that  all  diseases  were  "catching,"  the  boy  was  kept  away. 
The  doctor  was  doing  his  best  with  old-fashioned  remedies, 
blisters,  mustard  baths,  hot  herb  teas  and  fomentations. 
He  told  her  she  would  soon  be  well,  but  Kitty  knew  better. 
On  the  third  day,  she  asked  in  a  whisper  for  Jim,  but  told 
them  first  to  wash  his  face  and  hands  with  salt  water.  So 
the  long-legged,  bright-eyed  boy  came  and  sat  by  his 
mother's  bed  and  held  her  hot  hands.  As  he  gazed  on  her 
over-bright  eyes,  she  said  softly: 

"My  darling,  you'll  soon  be  alone,  without  friend  or 
kith  or  kin.  This  place  will  no  longer  be  your  home.  God 
only  knows  where  you'll  go.  But  He  will  take  care  of  you 
as  He  took  care  of  me." 

For  the  first  time  Jim  realized  the  meaning  of  the  scene 


44     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

—his  mother  was  dying.  She  quieted  his  sobs  with  a 
touch  of  her  hand  and  began  again,  slowly  and  painfully: 

"I  tried  to  leave  you  well  fixed,  but  it  was  not  to  be. 
The  hotel  will  go  to  another.  This  is  all  I  have  for  you." 

She  drew  a  little  cedar  box  from  under  the  covers,  and 
opening  it,  showed  him  her  Bible,  the  daguerreotype  of 
his  father  and  a  later  photograph  of  herself. 

"Jim,  promise  me  again  that  you  will  never  touch 
tobacco  or  liquor  till  you  are  eighteen." 

"Oh,  mother,  mother ! "  he  wept.  "  I'll  do  anything  you 
say.  I'll  promise.  I  give  you  my  word  I  never  will  touch 
them." 

She  rested  in  silence,  her  hand  was  on  his  head.  When 
her  strength  in  a  little  measure  came  again,  she  said  in  a 
low  tone: 

"My  wish  was  to  see  you  educated,  a  minister  for 
Christ.  I  hope  it  may  yet  be  so." 

She  was  still  a  long  time;  then,  gently  patting  his  head, 
she  said  to  those  around : 

"Take  him  away.     Wash  him  with  salt  and  water." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  hotel  which  had  been  Jim's 
only  home  and  which  he  thought  belonged  to  his  mother, 
passed  into  the  hands  of  John  Downey,  Jr.,  nephew  of  the 
original  owner.  It  was  Mrs.  John  Downey  who  offered  the 
first  ray  of  comfort  in  Jim's  very  bleak  world.  When  she 
saw  the  tall  handsome  boy  she  put  her  arms  around  him 
and  said: 

"Never  mind,  Jim,  don't  go  away.  This  will  always  be 
home  for  you." 


JIM  LOSES  EVERYTHING  45 

So  the  lad  found  a  new  home  in  the  old  house,  but  under 
greatly  changed  conditions.  The  new  mistress  had  no 
tions  of  her  own  as  to  the  amount  of  education  necessary 
and  the  measure  of  service  to  be  returned  for  one's  keep. 
Jim  was  able  to  read,  write,  and  cipher;  this  much  was 
ample  in  the  opinion  of  Mrs.  Downey,  and  Jim's  school 
days  ended.  The  understanding  that  he  must  make  him 
self  useful  quickly  resulted  in  his  transference  to  the 
stable.  A  garret  in  the  barn  was  furnished  with  a  bed  for 
him,  and  Jim's  life  was  soon  down  to  its  lowest  level.  He 
had  his  friends,  for  he  was  full  of  fun  and  good  to  look  upon; 
but  they  were  not  of  the  helpful  kind,  being  recruited 
chiefly  from  the  hostlers,  the  pugilists,  and  the  horsemen. 
He  had  time  for  amusements,  too;  but  they  were  nearly  al 
ways  of  the  boxing  glove  and  the  saddle.  Books  had  little 
charm  for  him,  though  he  still  found  pleasure  in  reciting 
the  heroic  ballads  of  Lachlin,  the  Raid  of  Dermid,  the 
Battle  of  the  Boyne,  and  in  singing  "My  Pretty,  Pretty 
Maid,"  or  woodmen's  "  Come  all  ye's."  His  voice  was  un 
usually  good,  except  at  the  breaking  time;  and  any  one 
who  knew  the  part  the  minstrel  played  in  Viking  days 
would  have  thought  the  bygone  times  come  back  to  see 
him  among  the  roystering  crowd  at  Downey's. 

The  next  three  years  that  passed  were  useless  except  for 
this,  they  gifted  Jim  with  a  tall  and  stalwart  form  and 
shoulders  like  a  grown  man.  But  they  added  little  to  the 
good  things  he  had  gathered  from  his  mother  and  from 
Fightin'  Bill.  At  sixteen  he  was  six  feet  high,  slim  and  boyish 
yet,  but  sketched  for  a  frame  of  power.  All  this  time  his 
meagre  keep  and  his  shabby  clothes  were  his  only  pay. 


46     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

But  Jim  had  often  talked  things  over  with  his  friends  and 
they  pointed  out  that  he  was  now  doing  man's  work  and 
getting  less  than  boy's  pay.  The  scene  that  followed  his 
application  for  regular  wages  was  a  very  unpleasant  one; 
and  John  Downey  made  the  curious  mistake  of  trying  to 
throw  young  Jimmy  out.  The  boy  never  lost  his  temper 
for  a  moment  but  laughingly  laid  his  two  strong  hands  on 
the  landlord's  fat  little  shoulders  and  shook  him  till  his 
collar  popped  and  his  eyes  turned  red.  Then  Jim  grinned 
and  said: 

"I  told  ye  I  wasn't  a  kid  anny  more." 

It  was  the  landlady's  good  sense  that  made  a  truce,  and 
after  a  brief,  stormy  time  the  long-legged  boy  was  rein 
stated  at  wages  in  the  yard. 

At  seventeen  Jim  was  mentioned  among  the  men  as  a 
likely  "  bhoy."  Women  in  the  street  would  turn  to  look  in 
admiration  at  his  square  shoulders,  lithe  swing,  and  hand 
some  head.  But  the  life  he  led  was  flat,  or  worse  than 
flat.  The  best  that  can  be  said  of  it  is  that  in  all  this  sordid 
round  of  bar  and  barn  he  learned  nothing  that  in  any  sort 
had  power  to  harm  his  rare  physique.  His  language  at  times 
was  the  worst  of  its  lurid  kind.  His  associates  were  coarse 
and  drunken.  Yet  Jim  lived  with  them  in  all  their  ways 
and  neither  chewed,  smoked,  nor  drank.  How  or  why, 
none  understood.  He  said  simply  that  he  "didn't  feel  like 
he  wanted  to."  With  the  liquor  it  was  a  different  matter. 
Here  it  was  a  question  of  principle  and  his  word  to  his 
mother  helped  him  where  by  nature  he  was  weak.  So  he 
grew  up,  hedged  about  with  a  dignity  that  was  in  some 
sense  a  foreshadowing  of  his  destiny.  But  there  was  much 


JIM  LOSES  EVERYTHING  47 

dross  to  be  burned  away  and  the  two  great  passions  that 
stood  between  Jim  Hartigan  and  full  spiritual  manhood 
had  their  roots  in  these  early  years  at  Downey's.  Later 
he  matched  his  strength  against  theirs  and  with  that 
struggle,  in  which  no  quarter  was  asked  or  given,  these 
pages  are  ultimately  concerned. 


CHAPTER  VII 
HE  GETS  A  MUCH-NEEDED  LESSON 

MANY  a  man  has  been  ruined  by  a  high,  unbroken 
level  of  success.  Intellectually  it  makes  for 
despotism  and  a  conviction  of  infallibility.  In 
the  world  of  muscle,  it  creates  a  bully. 

Young  Jim  was  far  from  losing  his  interest  in  the  ring, 
and  he  was  growing  so  big  and  strong  that  there  were  few 
in  town  who  cared  to  put  on  the  gloves  with  him.  All  that 
Bill  Kenna  had  taught  him,  and  more,  was  stored  as 
valued  learning.  Kenna  used  to  say,  in  his  Irish  vein: 
''There  is  twelve  rules  for  to  conduct  yourself  right  in  a 
shindy;  the  first  is,  get  your  blow  in  first;  and,  if  ye  live  up 
to  this,  ye  needn't  worry  about  the  other  iliven  rules. " 
Jim  accepted  this  as  fundamental  truth  and  thereby  be 
came  the  aggressor  in  nearly  every  brawl. 

His  boiling,  boisterous,  animal  nature  grew  with  his 
body  and  he  revelled  in  the  things  of  brawn.  He  re 
sponded  joyfully  when  he  was  called  on  to  eject  some 
rowdy  from  the  bar-room,  and  begetting  confidence  with 
each  new  victory,  he  began  to  have  a  vast  opinion  of  him 
self.  About  this  time  a  powerful  rival  of  Downey's, 
known  as  the  Dummer  House,  claimed  attention  at  the 
other  end  of  town.  One  was  located  to  catch  the  inbound 
from  the  west;  the  other,  those  from  the  east.  And  when 

48 


HE  GETS  A  MUCH-NEEDED  LESSON       49 

the  owners  were  not  at  war,  they  kept  at  best  an  armed 
neutrality. 

John  Downey  had  delivered  himself  of  some  unhallowed 
hopes  concerning  the  rival  house,  and  Jim,  as  he  passed  the 
opposition  Inn  on  a  certain  evening,  had  the  picturesque 
devastations  vividly  in  mind.  It  so  happened  that  a  mast 
ing  team  of  oxen  was  standing  patiently  outside  awaiting 
the  driver  who  was  refreshing  himself  at  the  bar.  A  mast 
ing  team  consists  of  six  to  twelve  strong,  selected  oxen, 
yoked  two  and  two  to  a  mighty  chain  with  which  they  can 
drag  forth  the  largest  pines  that  are  saved  for  masts. 
Jim's  too-agile  mind  noted  the  several  components  of  a 
new  and  delightful  exploit:  a  crowd  of  noisy  teamsters  in  a 
log  house  bar-room,  a  team  of  twelve  huge,  well-trained 
oxen  on  a  chain,  the  long,  loose  end  of  which  lay  near  him 
on  the  ground.  It  was  the  work  of  a  minute  to  hook  the 
chain  around  a  projecting  log  of  the  house.  A  moment 
more  and  he  had  the  oxen  on  the  go.  Beginning  with  the 
foremost  pair,  he  rushed  down  the  line,  and  the  great, 
heaving,  hulking  shoulders,  two  and  two,  bent  and  heaved 
their  bulk  against  the  strain.  The  chain  had  scarcely 
time  to  tighten;  no  house  could  stand  against  that  power. 
The  huge  pine  log  was  switched  out  at  one  end  as  a  man 
might  jerk  a  corn  cob  from  its  crib.  The  other  end,  still 
wedged  in  its  place,  held  for  a  moment;  but  the  oxen 
moved  slowly  on  like  a  landslide.  The  log  was  wrenched 
entirely  away  and  the  upper  part  of  the  building  dropped 
with  a  sullen  "chock"  to  rest  a  little  lower.  There  was  a 
wild  uproar  inside,  a  shouting  of  men,  a  clatter  of  glass, 
and  out  rushed  the  flushed-faced  rabble,  astonished, 


50     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

frightened,  furious  to  see  the  twelve  great  oxen  solemnly 
marching  down  the  street,  trailing  the  missing  log,  the 
fragment  of  their  house,  while  beside  them,  running,  laugh 
ing,  hooting,  was  a  long-legged  boy. 

Jim's  intention  had  been  to  clear  out,  but  the  trick 
proved  so  screamingly  funny  that  he  stood  for  a  minute 
to  enjoy  the  scene.  Shelves  had  fallen  and  glasses 
had  broken,  but  no  person  had  been  hurt.  There  was  a 
moment's  uncertainty;  then  with  an  angry  shout  the  en 
raged  patrons  of  the  Dummer  House  swept  forward.  Jim 
discreetly  fled.  In  the  centre  of  the  town  friends  appeared 
and  in  the  street  he  turned  to  face  his  pursuers.  Jim  had 
already  proved  himself  one  of  "  the  best  men  in  Links  "  and 
it  was  with  a  new  burst  of  hilarity  that  he  wheeled  about 
among  his  backers  to  give  them  "all  they  wanted."  In 
stead  of  the  expected  general  onslaught,  a  method  new  to 
Jim  was  adopted.  The  teamsters  of  the  Dummer  House 
held  back  and  from  their  ranks  there  issued  a  square-jawed, 
bow-legged  man,  whose  eye  was  cold,  whose  step  was  long 
and  quick.  With  the  utmost  deliberation  he  measured 
Jim  with  his  eye.  Then  he  growled : 

"Come  on,  ye  ill-born  pup.  Now  ye'll  get  what  ye 
desarve." 

The  sporting  instinct  was  strong  in  the  crowd  and  the 
two  were  left  alone  to  fight  it  out.  It  took  very  little  time. 
Jim  had  made  a  mistake — a  serious  one.  This  was  no 
simple  teamster,  guileless  of  training,  who  faced  him,  but  a 
man  whose  life  was  in  the  outer  circle  of  the  prize  ring. 
The  thrashing  was  complete,  and  effective  for  several 
weeks.  Jim  was  carried  home  and  ever  after  he  bore  upon 


HE  GETS  A  MUCH-NEEDED  LESSON       51 

his  chin  a  scar  that  was  the  record  of  the  final  knockout 
from  the  teamster's  iron  fist. 

The  catastrophe  had  several  important  compensations. 
The  owner  of  the  Dummer  House  decided  that  the  boy  was 
punished  enough,  and  took  no  legal  proceeding  against 
him.  On  his  part,  Jim  began  to  think  much  more  seri 
ously  before  giving  reckless  rein  to  his  sense  of  humour. 
On  the  whole,  his  respect  for  the  rights  of  others  was  de 
cidedly  increased.  His  self-esteem  shrunk  to  more  nor 
mal  proportions  and  if  he  thought  of  the  incident  at  all  it 
was  to  wish  very  earnestly  that  some  day,  somewhere,  he 
might  meet  the  teamster  again  on  more  even  terms. 

Unfortunately  these  salutory  results  were  negatived 
some  six  months  later  by  an  event  that  took  place  in 
Downey's  bar.  It  was  Jim's  birthday;  he  was  eighteen 
and  he  announced  it  with  pride. 

"And  here's  where  ye  join  us,"  said  several. 

"No,  I  don't  care  about  it,"  said  Jim. 

"Ye  ain't  promise  bound  now,  are  ye?" 

"No,"  replied  Jim,  "but- 

"Make  him  a  sweet  one  with  syrup  and  just  a  spoonful 
of  the  crather  to  take  the  curse  off." 

Refusing,  protesting,  half  ashamed  of  his  hesitation, 
Jim  downed  at  a  gulp  a  fruity  concoction,  much  to  the  de 
light  of  the  assemblage.  It  was  not  so  bad  as  he  had  ex 
pected  it  to  be  and  the  crowd  roared  at  the  expression  on 
his  face. 

"  Ye're  a  man  for  yourself  now,  lad,"  said  a  woodsman 
clapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  "Come  boys,  another 
round  to  Hartigan's  health." 


52     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

It  could  not  be  said  of  Jim  that  he  was  normal  in  any 
thing.  In  a  rare  and  multiplied  degree  he  had  inherited 
the  full  muscling  and  robust  heart  of  his  folk  in  both  lines 
of  forbears.  It  was  a  great  inheritance,  but  it  carried  its 
own  penalty.  The  big  animal  physique  holds  a  craving 
for  strong  drink.  Physical  strength  and  buoyancy  are 
bound  up  with  the  love  of  bacchanalian  riot.  Jim  had 
given  his  word  to  abstain  from  liquor  until  he  was  of  age; 
he  had  kept  it  scrupulously.  Now  he  had  tasted  of  it  the 
pendulum  swung  full  to  the  other  side.  That  was  his 
nature.  His  world  might  be  a  high  world  or  a  low  world; 
whichever  sphere  he  moved  in  he  practised  no  half-way 
measures. 

From  that  eighteenth  birthday  Jim  Hartigan  waged 
ceaseless  warfare  within  himself.  During  the  early  days 
he  was  an  easy  victim.  Then  came  a  shock  that  changed 
the  whole  aspect  of  his  life,  and  later  one  stood  beside  him 
who  taught  him  how  to  fight.  But  until  those  events  took 
place,  the  town  of  Links  knew  him  for  what  he  was,  a  reck 
less,  dare-devil  youth,  without  viciousness  or  malice,  but 
ripe  for  any  extravagance  or  adventure.  His  pranks  were 
always  begun  in  fun  though  it  was  inevitable  that  they 
should  lead  to  serious  consequences.  It  was  admitted  by 
his  severest  critics  that  he  had  never  done  a  cruel  or  a 
cowardly  thing,  yet  the  constant  escapades  and  drinking 
bouts  in  which  he  was  ever  the  leader  earned  him  the  name 
of  Wild  Jim  Hartigan. 

After  each  fresh  exploit  his  abject  remorse  was  pitiful. 
And  so,  little  by  little,  a  great  nature  was  purged;  his 
spirit  was  humbled  by  successive  and  crushing  defeats. 


HE  GETS  A  MUCH-NEEDED  LESSON       53 

At  first  the  animal  rebound  was  sufficient  to  set  him  on  his 
feet  unashamed.  But  during  the  fourth  year  after  his 
coming  of  age,  an  unrest,  a  sickness  of  soul  took  possession 
of  Jim  and  no  wildness  sufficed  to  lift  this  gloom.  And  it 
was  in  frantic  rebellion  against  this  depression  that  he 
entered  upon  his  memorable  visit  to  the  Methodist  revival. 


BOOK  II 

THE  CONVERSION 


CHAPTER 

THE   CONVERSION   OF  JIM 

THERE  was  much  excitement  in  Methodist  circles 
that  autumn.  A  preacher  of  power  had  come 
from  the  east.  The  church  was  filled  to  overflow 
ing  on  Sunday,  and  a  prayer  meeting  of  equal  interest  was 
promised  for  Wednesday  night. 

The  people  came  from  miles  around  and  there  were  no 
vacant  seats.  Even  the  aisles  were  filled  with  chairs  when 
the  Rev.  Obadiah  Champ  rose  and  bawled  aloud  in  roll 
ing  paragraphs  about  "Hopeless,  helpless,  hell-damned 
sinners  all.  Come,  come  to-day.  Come  now  and  be 
saved."  A  wave  of  religious  hysteria  spread  over  the 
packed-in  human  beings.  A  wave  that  to  those  untouched 
was  grotesque  and  incomprehensible. 

"Sure,  they  ain't  right  waked  up  yet,3'  said  one  of  Jim's 
half-dozen  unregenerate  friends  who  had  come  to  sit  with 
him  on  the  fence  outside,  and  scoff  at  the  worshippers. 
Jim  was  silent,  but  a  devil  of  wild  deeds  stirred  irritatingly 
within  him.  He  looked  about  him  for  some  supreme  in 
spiration — some  master  stroke.  The  crowd  was  all  in  the 
church  now,  and  the  doors  were  closed  tight.  But  muffled 
sounds  of  shouting,  of  murmurings,  of  halleluiahs  were  heard. 

"They're  goin'  it  pretty  good  now,  Jim,"  said  another. 
"  But  I  think  you  could  arouse  'em,"  he  added,  with  a  grin. 

57 


58     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Standing  by  the  church  was  a  tall  elm  tree;  near  by  was  a 
woodshed  with  axe,  saw,  and  wood  pile.  Jim's  eye  meas 
ured  the  distance  from  trunk  to  roof  and  then,  acting  on  a 
wild  impulse,  with  visions  of  folk  in  terror  for  their  bodies 
when  they  professed  concern  for  nothing  but  their  souls, 
he  got  the  axe,  and  amid  the  suppressed  giggles  and 
guffaws  of  his  chums,  commenced  to  fell  the  tree.  In 
twenty  minutes  the  great  trunk  tottered,  crackled,  and 
swung  down  fair  on  the  roof  of  the  crowded  building. 

The  congregation  had  reached  a  degree  of  great  mental 
ferment  with  the  revival,  and  a  long,  loud  murmuring  of 
prayers  and  groans,  with  the  voice  of  the  exhorter,  harsh 
and  ringing,  rilled  the  edifice,  when  with  a  crash  overhead 
the  great  arms  of  the  tree  met  the  roof.  At  first,  it  seemed 
like  a  heavenly  response  to  the  emotion  of  the  congrega 
tion,  but  the  crackling  of  small  timber,  the  showering  down 
of  broken  glass  and  plaster  gave  evidence  of  a  very  earthly 
interposition. 

Then  there  was  a  moment  of  silence,  then  another  crack 
from  the  roof,  and  the  whole  congregation  arose  and 
rushed  for  the  door.  All  in  vain  the  exhorter  tried  to  hold 
them  back.  He  shrieked  even  scriptural  texts  to  prove 
they  should  stay  to  see  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  Another 
flake  of  plaster  fell,  on  the  pulpit  this  time;  then  he  himself 
turned  and  fled  through  the  vestry  and  out  by  the  back 
way. 

Jim's  following  had  deserted  him,  but  he  himself  was 
there  to  see  the  fun;  and  when  the  congregation  rushed 
into  the  moonlight  it  was  like  a  wasp's  nest  poked  with  a 
stick,  or  a  wheat  shock  full  of  mice  turned  over  with  a  fork. 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  JIM  59 

The  crowd  soon  understood  the  situation  and  men 
gathered  around  the  sinner.  There  was  menace  in  every 
pose  and  speech.  They  would  have  him  up  to  court;  they 
would  thrash  him  now.  But  the  joyful  way  in  which  Jim 
accepted  the  last  suggestion  and  offered  to  meet  any  or  all 
"this  holy  minute"  had  a  marked  effect  on  the  programme, 
especially  as  there  were  present  those  who  knew  him. 

Then  the  exhorter  said : 

"Brethren,  let  me  talk  to  this  heinous  sinner.  Young 
man,  do  you  realize  that  this  is  the  House  of  God,  which 
you  have  so  criminally  destroyed?" 

"The  divil  an'  all  it  is,"  said  Jim.  "Sure,  ye  ain't  got 
the  cheek  to  call  a  Methody  shindy  hall  the  House  of  God. 
I  think  ye  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  give  a  lot  of 
dacent  farmers  the  hysterics  like  yer  doin'." 

"Young  man,  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  is  mighty,  and 
cometh  like  a  strong  wind  on  the  four  corners  of  the 
house." 

"Then  why  in  the  divil  did  ye  blame  me  for  it  ? "  was  the 
answer. 

"Oh,  son  of  Belial!  Hell  fire  and  eternal  damnation,  a 
portion  in  the  pit  that  burneth  with  fire,  is  the  lot  of 
those  that  desecrate  the  sanctuary  of  the  Most  High.  I 
tell  you  it  were  better  for  you  that  you  had  never  been 
born " 

"But  sure,  I  am  born;  and  it's  mesilf  that's  aloive  yet  an' 
going  strong." 

"Oh,  unregenerate  blasphemer — 

But  a  sudden  cry  and  commotion  interrupted  the 
preacher. 


60     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Here,  lay  her  down,  get  some  water." 

A  little  girl  had  been  hurt  in  the  crush  and  now  she  had 
fainted.  The  threats  of  the  men  had  roused  Jim  to  his 
joyful,  battle  enthusiasm.  The  onslaught  of  the  preacher 
had  stirred  his  sense  of  humour;  but  the  poor,  limp,  and 
seemingly  dead  form  of  the  little  girl,  a  child  whom  he 
knew  and  had  often  petted,  was  an  attack  he  was  ill- 
prepared  to  meet. 

"There,  see  what  you  have  done.  It  were  better  that  a 
millstone  were  hanged  about  your  neck  and  that  you  were 
cast  into  the  depths  of  the  sea  than  that  you  should  have 
harmed  this  little  one.  Her  blood  be  on  your  head." 

The  mother  was  kneeling  by  the  child,  unwisely  holding 
up  its  head.  She  was  praying  intently;  the  air  was  full  of 
religious  fervour.  "Oh,  God,  spare  my  baby.  Oh,  God, 
be  merciful/5 

Jim  heard  the  words  and  they  entered  his  soul  like 
a  two-edged  sword.  All  the  fun  of  the  incident  was 
gone,  and  all  the  cruelty,  the  unkindness,  the  wickedness, 
loomed  large  and  larger.  With  his  intense  nature,  subject 
to  the  most  violent  reactions,  the  effect  was  profound.  It 
seemed  to  him,  as  he  stood  there,  that  a  veil  dissolved  be 
fore  his  eyes  and  that  he  saw  himself  and  his  life  for  the 
first  time.  There  had  ever  been  two  natures  struggling  in 
his  soul,  the  calm  and  wise  one  of  his  Ulster  blood  of 
placid  Saxon  stock,  and  that  of  the  wild  and  fiery  Celt 
from  Donegal,  ready  to  fight,  ready  to  sing,  ever  ready  for 
fun,  but  ever  the  easy  prey  of  deep  remorse  in  even  meas 
ure  with  the  mood  of  passion  that  foreran  and  begot  it. 

Smitten  from  within  and  without,  utter  humiliation, 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  JIM  61 

self-accusation,  and  abasement  filled  his  soul.  Jim  sank  to 
the  ground  by  the  little  girl,  and  wept  in  an  agony  of  re 
morse. 

"Young  man,"  said  the  exhorter,  "if  God  in  His  mercy 
has  sent  me  here  to  save  your  soul  from  eternal  damnation 
by  this  hellish  deed  of  yours,  then  shall  I  rejoice  and  praise 
the  Lord,  that  out  of  fire  and  brimstone  He  can  create  a 
golden  pathway." 

The  little  girl  now  opened  her  eyes  and  with  a  cry  of  re 
lief  the  mother  sought  to  lift  her  up,  but  had  not  the 
strength.  Jim's  mighty  arms  were  eager  for  service,  and 
with  that  soft,  limp  little  body  against  his  broad  chest,  her 
head  on  his  shoulder,  his  heart  was  filled  with  inexpressi 
ble  emotion. 

"Bring  her  in  here,"  and  the  remnant  of  the  congrega 
tion  reassembled  in  the  church.  In  the  very  front  was 
Jim,  sitting  by  the  mother  with  the  little  girl  between  them. 
His  head  was  bowed  on  his  hands,  his  elbows  on  his  knees. 

Then  the  exhorter  began  again.  Full  of  scriptural 
texts  charged  with  holy  fire,  abounding  in  lurid  thoughts  of 
burning  lakes,  of  endless  torment;  gifted  with  the  fluency 
that  sometimes  passes  for  logic  and  makes  for  convince- 
ment,  he  dwelt  on  the  horrors  and  the  might-have-beens. 
He  shouted  out  his  creeds  of  holiness,  he  rumbled  in  his 
chest  and  made  graphic  mouthings.  He  played  on  all  the 
emotions  until  he  found  the  most  responsive,  and  then 
hammered  hard  on  these.  The  big  broad  shoulders  be 
fore  him  shook,  tears  fell  from  the  half-hidden  face.  Then 
the  preacher  chanced  to  strike  on  the  note,  "your  mother," 
and  Jim  Hartigan's  breakdown  was  complete.  He  sobbed, 


62     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Oh,  God,  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner,"  and  rising,  stag 
gered  to  a  place  on  the  upraised  bench — the  seat  of  those 
who  dared  to  hope  for  salvation — and  wept. 

Carried  away  by  his  own  vehemence,  the  exhorter  wept, 
too.  There  was  no  human  being  in  the  hall  who  could 
stand  the  overwhelming  surge  of  emotion.  The  congrega 
tion  wept.  Then  Jim  arose  and  in  broken  voice  said: 
"My  mother's  dying  prayer  was  that  I  might  join  the 
Church  and  be  a  witness  for  God.  As  sure  as  she  is  looking 
down  on  me  now  I  promise  that  I  will  join  His  people  and 
niver  rest  till  I  have  been  made  fit  to  stand  among  those 
who  bear  His  message.  I  give  my  word  as  a  man." 


CHAPTER  IX 
JIM   HARTIGAN   GOES   TO   COLLEGE 

HARTIGAN  never  walked  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 
He  was  either  in  the  ditch  or  on  the  high  place. 
Having  "got  religion"  it  was  inevitable,  with  his 
nature,  that  he  should  become  a  leader  in  the  fold.     That 
vision  of  himself  as  a  preacher,  fully  ordained,  which  had 
burst   upon   him   at   the   revival,    rilled   his   mind.     His 
mother's  last  wish  resounded  in  his  ears  with  all  the  im 
perative  force  of  a  voice  from  the  grave  and  he  was 
emotionally  ripe  for  such  inner  urgings. 

The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  a  course  would  have 
daunted  most  men;  but  Jim  was  going  strong  for  the  mo 
ment,  and  to  him  impossibilities  were  mere  trivialities. 
The  Rev.  Obadiah  Champ,  with  others  who  were  proud  of 
the  new  convert,  took  him  before  the  Board  of  Deacons 
and  there  Jim  made  his  ambitions  known.  He  was 
illiterate,  friendless,  penniless,  and  already  twenty-three. 
He  had  no  taste  for  study  or  a  life  of  self-control;  meekness 
and  spirituality  were  as  much  to  his  liking  now  as  travelling 
on  a  bog  is  to  a  blooded  horse. 

But  his  magnificent  presence,  his  glib  Irish  tongue,  his 
ready  wit,  his  evident  warmth  and  sincerity,  were  too 
much  for  the  reverend  bearded  ones  of  the  Board.  They 
were  carried  away,  as  most  humans  were,  by  his  personal 

63 


64     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

charm.  They  listened  with  beaming  faces.  They  cast 
significant  glances  at  one  another.  They  sent  Jim  into  an 
other  room  while  they  discussed  his  fate.  In  twenty  min 
utes  he  was  brought  back  to  hear  their  decision.  "Yes, 
they  would  accept  him  as  a  chosen  vessel  to  bear  the  grace 
of  God  abroad  among  the  people.  They  would  educate 
him  without  expense  to  himself.  He  might  begin  his 
college  career  at  once/' 

In  the  ordinary  course,  Jim  would  have  set  to  work  with 
a  tutor  in  Links  to  prepare  himself  to  enter  Coulter  College 
at  the  next  term.  But  life  seemed  to  order  itself  in  un 
usual  ways  when  it  was  a  question  concerning  Jim.  He 
had  no  home  in  Links;  he  had  no  money  to  pay  a  tutor;  he 
was  as  eager  as  a  child  to  begin  the  serious  work;  and  his 
ardour  burnt  all  the  barriers  away.  He  became  at  once  an 
inmate  of  Coulter,  a  special  protege  of  the  president's, 
admitted  really  as  a  member  of  the  latter's  family,  and 
bound  by  many  rules  and  promises.  In  preparation  for 
his  formal  entry  he  was  required  to  devote  six  hours  a  day 
to  study,  and  those  who  knew  him  of  old  had  given  the 
president  a  hint  to  exact  from  Jim  his  "wurd  as  a  mahn" 
that  he  would  do  his  daily  task. 

In  looking  back  on  those  days  Jim  used  to  revile  them 
for  their  uselessness  and  waste.  What  he  did  not  under 
stand  until  life  had  put  him  through  the  fire  was  that  the 
months  at  Coulter  broke  him  to  harness.  It  was  beyond 
the  wildest  imagining  that  a  youth  brought  up  as  Jim  had 
been  should  step  from  a  life  of  boisterous  carousing  in  a 
backwoods  settlement  into  a  seminary  and  find  congenial 
or  helpful  occupation  among  books.  And  yet  the  shock, 


JIM  HARTIGAN  GOES  TO  COLLEGE        65 

the  change  of  environment,  the  substitution  of  discipline 
for  license  and,  above  all,  the  heroic  struggle  of  the  man  to 
meet  this  new  order  of  existence — these  were  the  things, 
the  fine  metals  of  a  great  soul,  which  life  was  hammering, 
hammering  into  shape. 

What  this  period  meant  to  Jim  no  one  but  himself  knew. 
The  agony  of  spirit  and  of  body  was  intense.  He  had 
given  his  word  to  go  through  with  it  and  he  did.  But 
every  instinct,  every  association  of  his  old  life  led  his  mind 
abroad.  Every  bird  that  flew  to  the  roof  or  hopped  on  the 
lawn  was  a  strong  attraction;  every  sound  of  a  horse's  hoof 
aroused  his  wayward  interest;  and  the  sight  of  a  horse  sent 
him  rushing  incontinently  to  the  window.  At  the  begin 
ning,  the  football  captain  had  pounced  on  him  as  the  very 
stuff  he  needed,  and  Jim  responded  as  the  warhorse  does  to 
the  bugle.  He  loved  the  game  and  he  was  an  invaluable 
addition  to  the  team.  And  yet,  helpful  as  such  an  outlet 
was  for  his  pent-up  energy,  his  participation  merely 
created  new  tortures,  so  that  the  sight  of  a  sweater  crossing 
the  lawn  became  maddening  to  him  in  the  hours  of  study. 
He  had  never  liked  books,  and  now  as  the  weeks  went  by  he 
learned  to  loathe  them. 

It  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that  in  a  fair,  written  examina 
tion  with  an  impartial  jury,  Jim  Hartigan  would  have  been 
badly  plucked  on  his  college  entrance.  But  great  is  the 
power  of  personality.  The  president's  wife  behaved  most 
uncollegiately.  She  interested  herself  in  Jim;  she  had  in 
terviews  with  the  examiners;  she  discovered  in  advance 
questions  to  be  asked;  she  urged  upon  the  authorities  the 
absolute  necessity  of  accepting  this  promising  student. 


66     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

The  president  himself  was  biased.  He  hinted  that  the 
function  of  examiners  was  not  so  much  to  make  absolute 
measurement  of  scholastic  attainments  as  to  manifest  a 
discretionary  view  of  possibilities,  and  to  remember  that 
examination  papers  were  often  incapable  of  gauging  the 
most  important  natural  endowments  of  the  candidate;  that 
sometimes  when  it  was  necessary  to  put  a  blood  horse  over 
a  five-barred  gate,  the  wisest  horseman  laid  the  gate  down 
flat. 

The  admonitions  were  heeded,  the  gate  laid  flat,  and  the 
thoroughbred  entered  the  pasture.  But  to  Jim,  caught  up 
in  the  wearisome  class-room  grind,  the  days  held  no  glim 
mer  of  light.  Of  what  possible  value,  he  asked  himself 
again  and  again,  could  it  be  to  know  the  history  of  Nippur? 
Why  should  the  cuneiforms  have  any  bearing  on  the  mor 
als  of  a  backwoods  Canadian  ?  Would  the  grace  of  God  be 
less  effective  if  the  purveyor  of  it  was  unaware  of  what 
Sprool's  Commentaries  said  about  the  Alexandrian 
heresy?  Was  not  he,  Jim  Hartigan,  a  more  eloquent 
speaker  now,  by  far,  than  Silas  McSilo,  who  read  his  Greek 
testament  every  morning?  And  he  wrote  to  the  Rev. 
Obadiah  Champ:  "It's  no  use.  I  don't  know  how  to 
study.  I'm  sorry  to  get  up  in  the  morning  and  glad  to  go 
to  bed  and  forget  it.  I'd  rather  be  in  jail  than  in  college. 
I  hate  it  more  every  day."  But  Jim  had  given  his  "wurd 
as  a  mahn"  and  he  hammered  away  sadly  and  sorrowfully 
as  one  who  has  no  hope,  as  one  who  is  defeated  but  con 
tinues  to  fight  merely  because  he  knows  not  how  to  surren 
der. 


CHAPTER  X 
ESCAPE   TO   CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

IT  IS  generally  admitted  that  a  college  offers  two  main 
things,  book  learning  and  atmosphere.  Of  these  the 
latter  is  larger  and  more  vital,  if  it  be  good.  If  the 
college  lose  ground  in  either  essential,  the  loss  is  usually 
attributable  to  a  leadingset  of  students.  Coulter  was  losing 
ground,  and  the  growth  of  a  spirit  of  wildness  in  its  halls 
was  no  small  worry  to  the  president.  He  knew  whence  it 
sprang,  and  his  anxiety  was  the  greater  as  he  thought  of  it. 
Then  a  happy  inspiration  came.  Jim's  dislike  of  books 
had  intensified.  He  had  promised  to  study  for  one  year. 
According  to  the  rules,  a  student,  after  completing  his 
first  year,  might  be  sent  into  the  field  as  an  assistant  pastor, 
to  be  in  actual  service  under  an  experienced  leader  for  one 
year,  during  which  he  was  not  obliged  to  study. 

To  Jim  this  way  out  was  an  escape  from  a  cavern  to  the 
light  of  day,  and  every  officer  of  Coulter  College  breathed 
a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  packed  his  bag  and  started  for  the 
West. 

It  was  in  truth  a  wending  of  the  Spirit  Trail  when  Jim 
set  out;  as  if  the  Angel  of  Destiny  had  said  to  the  lesser 
Angel  of  Travel:  "Behold,  now  for  a  time  he  is  yours. 
You  can  serve  him  best."  Jim's  blood  was  more  than  red; 
it  was  intense  scarlet.  He  hankered  for  the  sparkling 

67 


68     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

cups  of  life,  being  alive  in  every  part — to  ride  and  fight  and 
burn  in  the  sun,  to  revel  in  strife,  to  suffer,  struggle,  and 
quickly  strike  and  win,  or  as  quickly  get  the  knockout 
blow!  Valhalla  and  its  ancient  fighting  creed  were  the 
hunger  in  his  blood,  and  how  to  translate  that  age-old 
living  feeling  into  terms  of  Christianity  was  a  problem  to 
which  Jim's  reason  found  no  adequate  answer.  He  talked 
of  a  better  world,  of  peace  and  harps  and  denial  and  sub 
mission,  because  that  was  his  job.  He  had  had  it  drilled 
into  him  at  Coulter;  but  his  flashing  eye,  his  mighty 
sweeping  hand,  gave  the  lie  to  every  word  of  meekness  that 
fell  from  his  school-bound  tongue.  He  longed  for  life  in 
its  fullest,  best,  most  human  form.  He  was  fiery  as  a 
pirate  among  the  wild  rowdies  he  had  lived  with  yet  he 
had  that  other  side — a  child  or  a  little  girl  could  bully  him 
into  absolute,  abject  submission. 

Whoever  knows  the  West  of  the  late  'yos  can  have  no 
doubt  as  to  where  the  whirlpool  of  red-blooded  life  surged 
deepest,  most  irresistibly;  where  the  strong  alone  could  live 
and  where  the  strongest  only  could  win.  In  the  Black 
Hills  the  strongest  of  the  savages  met  the  strongest  of  the 
whites,  and  there  every  human  lust  and  crime  ran  riot.  It 
was  not  accident  but  a  far-sighted  wisdom  on  the  part  of 
his  directors  that  sent  Jim  to  Cedar  Mountain. 

This  town  of  the  Black  Hills  was  then  in  the  transition 
stage.  The  cut-throat  border  element  was  gone.  The 
law  and  order  society  had  done  its  work.  The  ordinary 
machinery  of  justice  was  established  and  doing  fairly  well. 
The  big  strikes  of  gold  were  things  of  the  past;  now  plod 
ding  Chinese  and  careful  Germans  were  making  profitable 


ESCAPE  TO  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN  69 

daily  wages;  and  farmers  were  taking  the  places  of  the 
ranchmen.  But  there  was  still  a  rowdy  element  in  the  one 
end  of  the  town,  where  cowboy  and  miner  left  their  horses 
waiting  for  half  the  night,  by  the  doors  of  noisy  life  and 
riot.  This  was  the  future  field  of  pastoral  work  selected 
for  the  Rev.  James  Hartigan  by  elders  wise  in  the  testing  of 
the  human  spirit. 

All  alone,  Jim  set  forth  on  his  three  days'  journey  from 
Coulter,  by  way  of  Toronto,  Detroit,  and  Chicago,  to  the 
West,  and  seldom  has  a  grown  man  had  so  little  knowledge 
of  the  world  to  rely  upon.  On  the  train  he  met  with  a 
painted  woman,  whose  smirks  and  overtures  he  did  not 
understand;  and  some  farmer  folk  of  simple  kindness.  In 
the  coach,  where  all  slept  on  their  seats  at  night,  he  was 
like  another  brother  to  the  little  folks,  and  when  a  lumber 
jack,  taking  advantage  of  his  size,  sought  to  monopolize 
two  seats,  whereby  the  old  farmer  was  left  standing,  Jim's 
mild  and  humorous  "Sure,  I  wouldn't  do  that;  it  doesn't 
seem  neighbourly,"  as  he  tapped  the  ruffian's  shoulder,  put 
a  new  light  on  the  matter;  and  the  lumberjack,  after  noting 
the  shoulders  of  the  speaker,  decided  that  it  wasn't 
neighbourly,  and  removed  his  feet. 

Most  of  the  passengers  said  "good-bye"  at  Chicago,  and 
the  rest  at  Sidney  Junction,  where  Jim  changed  cars  for 
the  last  leg  of  the  journey. 

He  had  no  sooner  transferred  himself  and  his  bag  to  the 
waiting  train  than  there  entered  his  coach  five  new  pas 
sengers  who  at  once  attracted  his  full  attention — a  Jesuit 
missionary  and  .four  Sioux  Indians.  The  latter  were  in 
the  clothes  of  white  men,  the  Jesuit  in  his  clerical  garb. 


70     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

They  settled  into  the  few  available  places  and  Jim  found 
himself  sharing  his  seat  with  the  black-robed  missionary. 

All  his  early  training  had  aimed  to  inspire  him  with 
hatred  of  the  papist,  and  the  climax  of  popery,  he  believed, 
was  a  Jesuit.  He  had  never  met  one  before,  yet  he  knew 
the  insignia  and  he  was  not  at  all  disposed  to  be  friendly. 
But  the  black-robe  was  a  man  of  the  world,  blessed  with 
culture,  experience,  and  power;  and  before  half  an  hour,  in 
spite  of  himself,  Jim  found  himself  chatting  amicably  with 
this  arch  enemy.  The  missionary  was  full  of  information 
about  the  country  and  the  Indians;  and  Jim,  with  the 
avidity  of  the  boy  that  he  was,  listened  eagerly,  and  learned 
at  every  sentence.  The  experience  held  a  succession  of 
wholesome  shocks  for  him;  for,  next  to  the  detested  papist, 
he  had  been  taught  to  look  down  on  the  "poor,  miserable 
bastes  of  haythens,"  that  knew  nothing  of  God  or  Church. 
And  here,  to  his  surprise,  was  a  priest  who  was  not  only  a 
kindly,  wise,  and  lovable  soul,  but  who  looked  on  the  hea 
then  not  as  utterly  despicable,  but  as  a  human  being  who 
lacked  but  one  essential  of  true  religion,  the  one  that  he  was 
there  to  offer. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  missionary,  "when  I  came  out 
here  as  a  young  man  twenty-five  years  ago,  I  thought 
about  the  Indians  much  as  you  do.  But  I  have  been  learn 
ing.  I  know  now  that  in  their  home  lives  they  are  a  kind 
and  hospitable  people.  The  white  race  might  take  them 
as  models  in  some  particulars,  for  the  widow,  the  orphan, 
the  old,  and  the  sick  are  ever  first  cared  for  among  them. 
We  are  told  that  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil; 
and  yet  this  love  of  money,  in  spite  of  all  the  white  man  can 


ESCAPE  TO  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN  71 

do  to  inculcate  it,  has  no  place  at  all  in  the  Indian 
heart/' 

Jim  listened  in  astonishment,  first  to  hear  the  dreadful 
savages  set  so  high  by  one  who  knew  them  and  had  a  right 
to  speak,  but  chiefly  to  find  such  fair-mindedness  and  good 
ness  in  one  who,  according  to  all  he  had  ever  heard,  must 
be,  of  course,  a  very  demon  in  disguise,  at  war  with  all 
who  were  not  of  his  faith.  Then  the  thought  came, 
"Maybe  this  is  all  put  on  to  fool  me."  But  at  this  point 
two  of  the  Indians  came  over  to  speak  to  the  missionary. 
Their  respectful  but  cordial  manner  could  not  well  have 
been  put  on  and  was  an  answer  to  his  unspoken  question. 

"Are  these  men  Catholics?"  he  asked. 

"I'm  afraid  not  yet,"  said  the  priest,  "although  I  believe 
they  are  influenced  strongly.  They  observe  some  of  the 
practices  of  the  Church  and  cling  to  others  of  their  own." 

"Their  own  what?" 

"Well,  I  may  say  their  own  Church,"  said  the  father. 

"Church?     You  call  theirs  a  Church?"  exclaimed  Jim. 

"Why  not?  Their  best  teachers  inculcate  cleanness, 
courage,  kindness,  sobriety,  and  truth;  they  tell  of  one 
Great  Spirit  who  is  the  creator  and  ruler  of  all  things  and 
to  whom  they  pray.  Surely,  these  things  are  truth  and  all 
light  comes  from  God;  and,  even  though  they  have  not 
learned  the  great  story  of  the  redemption,  we  must  respect 
their  faith  so  far  as  it  goes." 

"And  these  are  the  'beasts  of  heathen'  I  have  always 
heard  about." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  missionary,  "they  have  many  habits 
that  I  hope  to  see  stamped  out;  but  I  have  learned  that  my 


72      THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Church  was  wise  when  it  sent  me,  not  to  antagonize  and 
destroy,  but  to  seek  for  the  good  in  these  people  and  fortify 
that  as  a  foundation  on  which  to  build  the  true  faith/' 

"Well,  this  is  all  a  great  surprise  to  me,"  said  Hartigan; 
and  again  his  deepest  astonishment  lay  in  the  new  knowl 
edge  of  the  papist,  rather  than  of  the  Indian. 

They  were  several  hours  together.  The  missionary  and 
his  Indian  friends  finally  left  the  train  at  a  station  nearest 
their  home  in  Pine  Ridge  and  Jim  was  left  alone  with  some 
very  new  ideas  and  some  old-time  prejudices  very  badly 
shaken. 

The  rest  of  the  journey  he  sat  alone,  thinking — thinking 
hard. 

There  was  no  one  to  meet  him  at  the  Cedar  Mountain 
station  when  he  stepped  out  of  the  car — the  last  passenger 
from  the  last  car,  in  the  last  station — for  at  that  time  this 
was  the  north  end  of  the  track.  All  his  earthly  belongings, 
besides  the  things  he  wore,  were  in  a  valise  that  he  carried 
in  his  hand;  in  his  pocket  he  had  less  than  five  dollars  in 
money,  and  his  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jebb 
of  Cedar  Mountain. 

In  all  his  life,  Jim  had  never  seen  a  mountain,  nor  even 
a  high  hill;  and  he  stood  gazing  at  the  rugged  pile  behind 
the  town  with  a  sense  of  fascination.  It  seemed  so  unreal, 
a  sort  of  pretty  thing  with  pretty  little  trees  on  it.  Was  it 
near  and  little,  or  far  and  big?  He  could  not  surely  tell. 
After  gazing  a  while,  he  turned  to  the  railway  agent  and 
said: 

"How  far  off  is  that  mountain  top?" 


ESCAPE  TO  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN  73 

"A  matter  of  two  miles,"  was  the  answer. 

Two  miles!  It  did  not  seem  two  hundred  rods;  and  yet 
it  did,  for  the  man  on  horseback  half  way  there  looked 
toy-like;  and  the  distance  grew  as  he  gazed.  A  rugged, 
rocky  pile  with  white  snow-ravines  still  showing  in  the 
springtime  sun,  some  scattering  pines  among  the  ledges 
and,  lower,  a  breadth  of  cedars,  they  were  like  a  robe  that 
hid  the  shoulders  and  flanks  of  the  mountain,  then  spread 
out  on  the  plain,  broken  at  a  place  where  water  glinted, 
and  later  blended  with  the  purple  sage  that  lent  its  colour 
to  the  view. 

It  was  all  so  new  and  fairylike;  "the  glamour  and  dhrei 
that  the  banshee  works  on  the  eyes  of  men,"  was  the 
thought  that  came,  and  the  Irish  tales  his  mother  used  to 
tell  of  fays  and  lepricauns  seemed  realized  before  his 
eyes.  Then,  acting  on  a  sudden  impulse,  he  dropped  his 
bag  and  started  off,  intent  on  going  up  the  mountain. 

Swinging  a  stick  that  he  had  picked  up,  he  went  away 
with  long,  athletic  strides,  and  the  motor  engines  of  his 
frame  responding  sent  his  blood  a-rushing  and  his  spirit 
bounding,  till  his  joy  broke  forth  in  song,  the  song  of  the 
singing  prophet  of  Judea's  hills,  a  song  he  had  learned  in 
Coulter  for  the  sweetness  of  the  music  rather  than  for  its 
message: 

How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains 

Are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth  good  tidings, 

That  publisheth  peace, 

That  bringeth  good  tidings  of  good, 

That  publisheth  salvation, 

That  saith  unto  Zion, 

"ThyGodreigneth." 


74     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

And  when  he  reached  the  cedar  belt  he  knew  that  the 
railway  man  had  spoken  the  truth,  but  he  held  on  up  the 
ever-steepening  trail,  ceasing  his  song  only  when  he  needed 
the  breath  to  climb.  A  cottontail  waved  its  beacon  for  a 
minute  before  him,  then  darted  into  the  underbrush;  the 
mountain  jays  called  out  a  wailing  cry;  and  the  flicker 
clucked  above.  Sharp  turns  were  in  the  trail,  else  it  had 
faced  an  upright  cliff  or  overshot  a  precipice;  but  it  was 
easily  followed  and,  at  length,  he  was  above  the  cedars. 
Here  the  horse  trail  ended,  but  a  moccasin  path  went  on. 
It  turned  abruptly  from  a  sheer  descent,  then  followed  a 
narrow  knife  edge  to  rise  again  among  the  rocks  to  the  last, 
the  final  height,  a  little  rocky  upland  with  a  lonely  stand 
ing  rock.  Here  Jim  turned  to  see  the  plain,  to  face  about 
and  gasp  in  sudden  wonder;  for  the  spell  of  the  mountain 
seen  afar  is  but  a  little  echo  of  the  mountain  power  when  it 
has  raised  you  up. 

He  recalled  the  familiar  words,  not  understood  till  now: 

"Thy  mercies  are  like  mountains  great, 
Thy  judgments  are  like  floods." 

He  gazed  and  his  breath  came  fast  as  he  took  in  the 
thought,  old  thoughts,  yet  new  thoughts,  strong  and  elusive? 
and  wondered  what  he  had  found. 

Crossing  the  little  upland,  he  approached  its  farther  end, 
and  stood  by  the  pinnacle  of  rock  that,  like  a  lonely  watch 
man,  forever  looked  down  on  the  blue  and  golden  plains. 
A  mountain  chipmunk  stared  at  him,  flicked  its  tail,  and 
dived  under  a  flat  ledge;  a  bird  whose  real  home  was  a 
thousand  miles  off  in  the  north  faced  the  upland  breeze 


ESCAPE  TO  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN  75 

and  sang  in  its  unknown  tongue.  Jim  drew  still  nearer  the 
rocky  spire,  rounded  a  ledge,  and  faced  an  unexpected 
sight.  In  a  little  open  lodge  of  willows,  bent  and  roofed 
with  a  canvas  cover,  sat  an  Indian  youth,  alone,  motionless, 
beside  him  was  a  pot  of  water,  and  between  him  and  the 
tall  rock,  a  little  fire,  from  which  a  tiny  thread  of  smoke 
arose. 

Hartigan  started,  for  that  very  morning  he  had  learned 
from  the  old  Jesuit  enough  about  the  Red-men  to  know 
that  this  was  something  unusual.  On  the  rock  beyond  the 
fire  he  saw,  painted  in  red,  two  symbols  that  are  used  in  the 
Red-man's  prayers:  "the  blessed  vision"  leading  up  to  the 
"spirit  heart  of  all  things."  A  measure  of  comprehension 
came  to  him,  and  Father  Cyprian's  words  returned  in 
new  force. 

The  lad  in  the  little  lodge  raised  a  hand  in  the  sign  of 
"Stop,"  then  gently  waved  in  a  way  that,  in  all  lands  and 
languages,  means:  "Please  go  away."  There  was  a  soft, 
dreamy  look  in  his  face,  and  Jim,  realizing  that  he  had 
entered  another  man's  holy  place,  held  back  and,  slowly 
turning,  sought  the  downward  trail. 

It  came  to  him  clearly  now  this  was  one  of  the  interest 
ing  things  told  him  that  morning  by  the  Jesuit.  This 
Indian  boy  was  taking  his  hambeday,  his  manhood  fast  and 
vigil;  seeking  for  the  vision  that  should  be  his  guide,  he 
was  burning  his  altar  fire  beside  the  Spirit  Rock. 

As  he  retraced  his  steps  the  wonder  of  this  new  world 
enveloped  Jim.  At  the  edge  of  the  cedars  he  paused  and, 
looking  out  over  the  great  expanse  of  green  plumage,  he  said 
aloud:  "All  my  life  have  I  lived  in  the  bottom  of  a  little 


76     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

narrow  well,  with  barely  a  glimpse  of  the  sky,  and  never 
a  view  of  the  world.  Now  I  am  suddenly  brought  forth 
to  see  the  world  and  the  bigness  of  the  heavens,  and  the 
things  I  dimly  got  from  books  are  here  about  me,  big, 
living,  actual." 

He  was  himself  so  much,  could  he  be  also  a  part  of  this 
wonder-world  ?  It  seemed  impossible,  so  wholly  new  was 
everything  it  held. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  NEW   FORCE   ENTERS   His   LIFE 

BACK  at  the  railway  station,  Hartigan  looked  for  his 
bag  where  he  had  dropped  it,  but  it  was  gone. 
The  agent,  glancing  across  and  divining  his 
quandary,  said  stolidly: 

"I  guess  Dr.  Jebb  took  it.  Ain't  you  the  party  he's 
looking  for?  He  said  ' J.  H.s  was  the  initials.  You'll  find 
him  at  that  white  house  with  the  flowers  just  where  the 
boardwalk  ends." 

Jim  went  down  the  road  with  alert  and  curious  eyes  and 
presented  himself  at  the  white  cottage.  He  found  a  grave 
and  kindly  welcome  from  Mrs.  Jebb — a  stout,  middle-aged, 
motherly  person — and  from  the  Rev.  Josiah  Jebb,  D.D., 
M.A.,  etc.,  pastor  of  the  Methodist  Church  and  his  prin 
cipal  to  be  for  the  coming  year. 

A  gentle,  kindly  man  and  a  deep  scholar,  Dr.  Jebb  had  no 
more  knowledge  of  the  world  than  a  novice  in  a  convent. 
His  wife  was  his  shield  and  buckler  in  all  things  that  con 
cerned  the  battle  with  men  and  affairs;  all  his  thoughts  and 
energies  were  for  his  pulpit  and  his  books. 

Failing  health  rather  than  personal  fitness  had  to  do 
with  Dr.  Jebb's  being  sent  to  the  hills.  But  the  vast  ex 
tent  of  territory  in  his  charge,  the  occasional  meetings  in 
places  separated  by  long  hard  rides,  together  with  the  crude, 

77 


78     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

blunt  ranch  and  farmer  folk  who  were  his  flock — all  called 
for  a  minister  with  the  fullest  strength  of  youth  and  mental 
power.  It  was  to  meet  this  need  that  the  trustees  of  the 
church  had  sent  James  Hartigan  to  supplement  the  labours 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jebb.  Thus  these  two,  diverse  in  every 
particular  of  bodily  and  mental  equipment,  were  chosen  to 
meet  the  same  religious  problem. 

The  evening  meal  was  spread  by  Mrs.  Jebb  herself,  for 
their  meagre  stipend  did  not  admit  of  a  helper;  and  Jim, 
with  his  hearty,  rollicking  ways,  soon  won  his  accustomed 
place,  a  high  place  in  their  hearts.  That  night  he  was  in 
vited  to  stay  with  them;  but  it  was  understood  that  next 
day  he  would  find  permanent  lodgings  in  the  town.  Not  a 
complex  task,  since,  to  quote  Mrs.  Jebb,  "his  hat  covered 
his  family,  and  three  hundred  a  year  simplified  the  number 
of  rooms." 

Jim  rose  at  six  in  the  morning,  lighted  a  fire  in  the 
kitchen  stove — for  this  is  etiquette  in  the  simple  regions 
where  servants  are  not  and  the  guest  is  as  a  son — and  put 
on  a  full  kettle  of  water.  This  also  is  etiquette;  it  assumes 
that  the  family  will  not  be  up  for  some  time.  Had  it  been 
near  the  breakfast  hour,  but  half  a  kettle  would  have  been 
correct.  Then  he  left  the  house,  stick  in  hand,  for  a  long 
walk.  This  time  he  struck  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
open  plains.  The  flimsy  little  town  was  soon  behind  him, 
and  the  winding  trail  among  the  sagebrush ,went  reaching 
out  to  the  east.  The  pine  woods  of  his  native  country  were 
not  well  stocked  with  life;  the  feathered  folk  were  incon 
spicuous  there;  but  here  it  seemed  that  every  bush  and 
branch  was  alive  with  singing  birds.  The  vesper  spar- 


A  NEW  FORCE  ENTERS  HIS  LIFE          79 

rows  ran  before  his  feet,  flashed  their  white  tail  feathers  in 
a  little  flight  ahead,  or  from  the  top  of  a  stone  or  a  buffalo 
skull  they  rippled  out  their  story  of  the  spring.  The 
buffalo  birds  in  black  and  white  hung  poised  in  the  air  to 
tell  their  tale,  their  brown  mates  in  the  grass  applauding 
with  a  rapt  attention.  The  flickers  paused  in  harrying 
prairie  anthills  and  chuckling  fled  to  the  nearest  sheltering 
trees.  Prairie  dogs  barked  from  their  tiny  craters; 
gophers  chirruped  or  turned  themselves  into  peg-like 
watchtowers  to  observe  the  striding  stranger. 

But  over  all,  the  loud  sweet  prairie  lark  sang  his  warbling 
yodel-song  of  the  sun  with  a  power  and  melody  that  no  bird 
anywhere,  in  any  land,  can  equal.  It  seemed  to  Jim  the 
very  spirit  of  these  level  lands,  the  embodiment  of  the 
awakening  plains  and  wind,  the  moving  voice  of  all  the 
West.  And  all  about,  as  though  responsive,  the  flowers 
of  spring  came  forth:  purple  avens  in  straggling  patches; 
golden  yellow  bloom,  with  blots  and  streaks  of  fluffy  white; 
while  here  and  there,  as  far  as  eye  could  reach,  was  the 
blue-white  tinge  of  the  crocus  flower,  the  queen  of  the 
springtime  flowers,  the  child  of  the  sky  and  the  snow. 

The  passionate  youth  in  him  responded  to  the  beauty 
of  it;  he  felt  it  lay  hold  on  him  and  he  would  have  sung,  but 
he  found  no  words  in  all  his  college-born  songs  to  tell  of 
this  new  joy.  "I  didn't  know  it  could  be  so  beautiful.  I 
didn't  know,"  he  said  again  and  again. 

At  the  seven  o'clock  whistle  of  a  mill  he  wheeled  about 
toward  the  town,  and  saw  there,  almost  overhanging  it,  the 
mountain,  bright  in  the  morning,  streaked  with  white, 
lifting  a  rugged  head  through  the  gray-green  poncho  of  its 


8o     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

cedar  robe,  a  wondrous  pile  capped  by  the  one  lone  tower 
that  watched,  forever  watched,  above  the  vast  expanse  of 
plains. 

Jim  was  nearly  back  to  the  town  when  a  horse  and  rig 
appeared  coming  rapidly  toward  him.  He  heard  a  shout 
and  saw  a  man  run  from  a  house  to  look.  The  horse  was 
going  very  fast  and  shaking  his  head;  something  was 
wrong.  As  it  came  toward  him  he  saw  that  the  driver  was 
a  young  girl.  She  was  holding  with  all  her  strength  to  the 
reins,  but  the  horse,  a  tall,  rawboned  creature,  was  past 
control.  Horses  Jim  surely  understood.  He  stepped  well 
aside,  then  wheeling  as  the  runaway  went  past,  he  ran  his 
best.  For  a  little  while  a  swift  man  can  run  with  a  horse, 
and  in  that  little  while  Jim  was  alongside,  had  seized  the 
back  of  the  seat,  and,  with  a  spurt  and  a  mighty  leap,  had 
tumbled  into  the  rig  beside  the  driver.  Instantly  she  held 
the  reins  toward  him  and  gasped: 

"I  can't  hold  him;  he's  running  away."  Then,  as  Jim 
did  not  at  once  seize  the  reins,  she  hurriedly  said:  "Here, 
take  them." 

"No,"  he  said  with  amazing  calmness,  "you  can  control 
him.  Don't  be  afraid.  You  hurt  yourself  pulling;  ease 
up.  Keep  him  straight,  that's  all." 

The  sense  of  power  in  his  presence  and  matter-of-fact 
tone  restored  her  nerve.  She  slackened  a  little  on  the 
reins.  The  horse  had  believed  he  was  running  away ;  now  he 
began  to  doubt  it.  She  had  been  telegraphing  terror  along 
the  lines,  and  now  she  began  to  telegraph  control. 

"Speak  to  him,  just  as  you  would  if  he  were  all  right," 
said  Jim  in  a  low  voice. 


A  NEW  FORCE  ENTERS  HIS  LIFE          81 

The  girl  had  been  pale  and  scared-looking,  but  she  re 
sponded  to  the  suggestion  and  talked  to  the  horse. 

"Good  boy,  good  boy,  Stockings;  keep  it  up,"  just  as 
though  she  had  been  putting  him  to  his  utmost. 

There  was  open  fareway  straight  ahead  and  little  to  fear 
so  long  as  the  horse  kept  in  the  road  and  met  no  other  rig. 
In  a  quarter  of  a  mile  he  began  to  slacken  his  pace. 

"Will  you  take  the  lines  now?"  the  girl  asked  shyly. 

"No,  it  isn't  necessary,  and  the  horse  would  feel  the 
change  and  think  he  had  beaten  you." 

"My  arms  are  tired  out,"  she  said  rather  querulously. 

"Then  ease  up  for  a  while.     Don't  pull  so  hard." 

She  did  so  and  was  surprised  that  the  horse  did  not  speed 
away.  In  a  quarter  of  a  mile  more  the  victory  was  won. 
She  gave  the  usual  signal  to  stop  and  Stockings  came 
gently  to  a  pause. 

"Now,"  said  Jim,  "if  you  like,  I'll  take  the  lines.  The 
battle  is  over.  You  have  won.  From  now  on  you  will 
be  able  to  drive  that  horse;  but  if  I  had  taken  the  lines  he 
would  have  felt  the  change;  he  would  have  felt  that  he 
could  boss  you,  and  ever  after  he  would  have  been  a 
dangerous  horse  for  you  to  drive." 

In  the  struggle,  the  horse  had  got  one  leg  over  the  trace. 
Jim  got  out,  spoke  to  the  big,  strong  brute,  and  did  the 
firm-handed,  compelling  things  that  a  horseman  knows. 
The  tall  creature  stood  a  little  trembly,  but  submissive 
now,  as  the  man  unhooked  the  trace,  adjusted  all  the 
leathers,  and  then,  with  a  word  or  two,  adjusted  the  horse's 
mood. 

"Shall  I  leave  you  now?"  he  asked. 


82     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"No,"  she  said,  "my  arms  are  aching.  I  wish  you  would 
drive  me  home." 

As  he  mounted  the  seat  again  and  headed  for  the  village, 
Jim  had  his  first  chance  to  look  at  the  girl  beside  him.  If 
fear  had  paled  her  face  at  all  it  was  wholly  overcome,  for 
the  richest  glow  of  health  was  in  her  cheeks  and  on  her 
brow.  She  was  beautiful  he  knew,  with  her  brown  hair 
flying  and  brilliant  colour,  but  these  things  did  not  en 
tirely  account  for  a  charm  of  which  he  was  delightfully 
conscious.  Her  hands  were  a  little  shaky  from  the  struggle 
with  the  horse,  but  otherwise  she  was  fully  recovered  and 
self-possessed  and  talked  in  an  animated  if  somewhat 
nervous  way  about  the  adventure.  In  a  land  where  rasp 
ing  voices  were  the  rule,  it  was  instantly  to  be  noted  that 
her  voice  was  soft  and  low. 

"Stockings  is  not  a  bad  horse,"  she  said,  "except  in  one 
way:  the  lines  get  under  his  tail.  That  always  makes  him 
back  up  and  kick;  then  he  got  his  leg  over  the  trace,  was 
frightened,  and  ran  away.  He's  the  only  one  of  our  horses 
that  we  have  any  trouble  with.  I  was  bound  I'd  drive 
him,  in  spite  of  Pa;  but  I'm  thinking  now  that  Pa  was 
right."  Then,  abruptly:  "I'm  Miss  Boyd;  aren't  you  the 
new  preacher?" 

"Yes." 

"I  saw  you  at  the  station  when  you  came  yesterday." 

"Sure,  I  didn't  suppose  a  human  being  took  notice  of 
it,"  he  laughed. 

"Here's  where  I  live.     Will  you  come  in?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  he  said;  "I'm  late  now  for  breakfast 
at  Dr.  Jebb's."  So  he  tied  the  horse  to  the  post,  helped 


A  NEW  FORCE  ENTERS  HIS  LIFE          83 

her  from  the  rig,  and  with  a  flourish  of  his  stick  and  cap 
left  her. 

"The  Rev.  James  Hartigan/'  she  mused;  "so  that  is  Dr. 
Jebb's  assistant."  Then  in  Stockings's  ear:  "I  think  I 
like  him — don't  you,  old  runaway?" 


CHAPTER  XII 
BELLE    BOYD 

BELLE  had  been  in  the  express  office  signing  some 
receipts  for  goods  consigned  to  her  father  when 
Jim  stepped  from  the  train.     He  appeared  framed 
in  the  open  doorway;  six  feet  four,  broad  and  straight, 
supple  and  easy,  with  the  head  of  a  Greek  god  in  a  crown 
of  golden  curls,  and  a  dash  of  wild  hilarity  in  his  bright 
blue  eyes  that  suggested  a  Viking,  a  royal  pirate.     He  was 
the  handsomest  man  she  had  ever  seen  and  when  he  spoke  it 
was  with  a  slight  and  winsome  Irish  brogue  that  lent  new 
charm  to  a  personality  already  too  dangerously  gifted. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  Nature  had  given  him  all  the  gifts 
there  were  for  man;  and  he  was  even  better  furnished  than 
she  perceived,  for  he  had  youth,  health,  happy  moods, 
magnetic  power  in  face  and  voice,  courage,  and  the  gift  of 
speech.  And  yet,  with  all  these  unmeasured  blessings  was 
conjoined  a  bane.  To  be  possessed  of  the  wild,  erratic 
spirit  of  the  roving,  singing  Celt,  to  be  driven  to  all  ill- 
judged  extremities,  to  be  lashed  by  passion,  anger,  and  re 
morse,  to  be  the  battle  ground  of  this  wild  spirit  and  its 
strong  rival,  the  calm  and  steadfast  spirit  of  the  North — 
that  was  a  spiritual  destiny  not  to  be  discerned  in  a  first 
meeting;  but  Belle,  keen  and  understanding,  was  to  dis 
cover  it  very  soon. 

84 


BELLE  BOYD  85 

Belle  Boyd  was  an  only  child.  Her  father  was  a  well- 
to-do  trader;  he  had  had  just  enough  schooling  to  give  him 
a  high  notion  of  its  value,  and  he  resolved  to  equip  his  child 
with  the  best  there  was  in  reach.  This  meant  an  Illinois 
college.  She  entered  at  seventeen.  Here  many  vague 
aspirations  of  schoolgirl  life  took  definite  shape,  and  re 
sulted  in  some  radical  changes  in  her  course  of  studies. 
Her  mother  had  but  one  thought — to  prepare  Belle  for 
being  a  good  wife  to  some  one.  Her  views  on  many  sub 
jects  were  to  be  left  blank,  so  that  she  might  at  once  adopt 
those  of  her  prospective  husband.  Her  tentacles  alone 
were  well  considered  in  the  maternal  method,  so  that  she 
could  cling  ivy-like  to  her  oak,  stay  up  with  him  or  go 
down  with  him;  but  help  him  to  stand  up — no,  never  and 
not  at  all! 

But  Illinois  was  seething  with  a  different  thought  in  the 
late  'jo's.  There  were  women  who  boldly  proclaimed  that 
sex  and  mind  had  little  bearing  on  each  other;  that  woman 
should  train  herself  to  be  herself,  and  to  stand  on  her  own 
feet;  that  when  woman  had  the  business  training  of  men, 
the  widow  and  the  unmarried  woman — half  of  all  women 
— would  no  longer  be  the  easy  prey  of  every  kind  of  sharp 
er.  These  new  teachers  were,  of  course,  made  social 
martyrs,  but  they  sowed  the  seed  and  the  crop  was  coming 
on.  That  every  woman  should  prepare  herself  to  stand 
alone  in  the  world  was  the  first  article  in  their  creed. 
This  crystallized  an  old  and  shapeless  thought  that  had 
often  come  to  Belle,  and  the  pointed  application  that  she 
made  was  to  focus  her  college  studies  on  a  business  train 
ing.  Bookkeeping,  shorthand,  and  exact  methods  were 


86     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

selected  for  specialization;  and  when  at  the  age  of  twenty 
Belle  was  graduated  and  went  home  to  Cedar  Mountain, 
she  had,  in  addition  to  her  native  common  sense,  a  dis 
ciplined  attention  that  made  her  at  once  a  power  in  the 
circle  of  the  church.  It  was  her  own  idea  to  take  a  business 
position  at  once.  Her  mother  was  absolutely  opposed  to 
it.  "Why  should  her  child  be  sent  to  work?  Were  they 
not  able  to  keep  her  at  home?  What  was  the  good  of 
parents  giving  years  to  toil  if  not  to  keep  their  children  at 
home  with  them?"  Mr.  Boyd  was  more  inclined  to  see 
things  Belle's  way,  and  at  length  a  compromise  was  reached 
by  which  Belle  became  her  father's  bookkeeper  and  secre 
tary,  and  for  a  time  all  went  well. 

Then  a  new  factor  entered  the  case,  one  for  which  the  re 
former  has  not  yet  found  a  good  answer.  The  daily 
routine  of  the  desk  was  assumed  as  a  matter  of  course;  and 
Belle  quickly  got  used  to  that  and  found  abundant  mental 
diversion  in  other  things  and  in  hours  of  freedom.  But  her 
body  had  less  strength  than  her  mind,  and  the  close  con 
finement  of  the  office  began  to  tell.  Her  hands  got  thin, 
her  cheeks  lost  their  colour,  her  eyes  grew  brighter.  Mrs. 
Boyd  began  to  worry,  and  sent  secretly  to  Illinois  for 
bottles  of  various  elixirs  of  life,  guaranteed  to  put  health, 
strength,  youth,  and  brains  into  anything.  She  also  made 
foolish  and  elaborate  efforts  to  trick  the  daughter  into  eat 
ing  more  at  meals,  or  between  meals,  without  avail.  At 
this  juncture  a  very  capable  person  took  matters  in  hand. 
Dr.  Peter  Carson,  family  physician  and  devoted  friend, 
was  consulted;  his  views  were  clear  and  convincing: 
Belle  must  give  up  the  office  for  a  year  at  least;  she  needed 


BELLE  BOYD  87 

fresh  air  and  sun;  the  more  the  better.  Every  girl  in  the 
Black  Hills  rides  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  Belle  was  at 
home  on  a  broncho;  but  now  it  must  be,  not  an  occasional 
run,  but  a  daily  ride  in  the  hills — off  for  miles,  till  the  vital 
forces  had  renewed  their  strength. 

For  a  month  or  more  Belle  rode  and  browned  in  the  sun. 
The  colour  came  again  to  her  cheeks,  and  zest  to  her  life; 
and  there  also  came  a  strong  desire  to  be  in  a  business  of 
her  own.  But  it  must  be  something  out  of  doors;  it  must 
be  something  of  little  capital;  and  something  a  woman 
could  do.  Belle  studied  her  problem  with  great  care  and 
presently  there  began  to  arrive  at  the  post  office  sundry 
catalogues  of  extraordinary  hens  with  unbelievable  rec 
ords  as  producers  of  eggs  and  of  rapid-raising  broilers. 
The  result  was  that  the  acre  of  ground  behind  the  store 
was  cut  up  into  poultry  runs  for  the  various  strains  of  stock 
that  Belle  decided  on  and  that  spring  Belle  launched  out  on 
her  career  as  a  poultry  farmer.  There  were  Leghorns  and 
Houdans  for  eggs,  and  Brahmas  in  another  yard  for 
mothers.  Four  things  conspired  to  make  her  venture  a 
success.  She  was  the  only  one  in  Cedar  Mountain  with 
thoroughbred  poultry,  so  there  was  a  large  demand  for 
high-class  eggs  for  setting.  The  eggs  that  for  table  use 
brought  fifty  cents  a  dozen  were  worth  two  dollars  and  a  half 
a  dozen  for  hatching.  Her  store  training  had  taught  her 
to  watch  the  market  reports  in  the  papers,  which  arrived 
twice  a  week,  and  her  college  training  taught  her  to  study 
hen  hygiene.  Last  but  not  least,  she  got  their  food  for 
nothing. 

On  closing  her  books  that  autumn  Belle  found  that  on 


88     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

her  investment  of  $250  capital  borrowed  from  her  father, 
she  had  cleared  $250,  and  had  all  the  capital  to  render  back 
intact.  She  realized  that  while  it  was  possible  to  make  100 
per  cent,  on  small  capital,  the  rate  decreased  rapidly  as  the 
capital  increased.  She  estimated  that  ten  times  as  much 
capital  would  only  produce  about  25  per  cent,  because  the 
possibility  of  personal  management  of  every  hen  and  every 
detail  would  grow  proportionately  smaller,  and  it  was  this 
personal  touch  which  counted.  Next,  the  sovereign  advan 
tages  of  grass  range  and  table  scraps  must  diminish  with 
each  additional  hen ;  and  if  she  had  paid  herself  an  adequate 
salary  the  profit  would  have  been  wiped  out.  Last,  and 
perhaps  the  most  important  to  her,  she  was  absolutely  tied 
to  the  farm.  She  could  not  be  away  one  week  without  suf 
fering  loss.  It  was  with  ill-concealed  admiration  that  her 
father  listened  to  a  summary  of  these  conclusions;  later, 
with  the  remarkable  common  sense  that  characterized  most 
of  her  ways,  Belle  seized  a  chance  to  sell  out  and  lodge  her 
money  in  the  local  bank.  But  the  venture  had  been  a 
success  in  two  respects.  It  had  helped  her  to  health  and 
it  had  given  her  business  experience  and  confidence. 

The  winter  was  now  on,  and  Belle's  outdoor  activities 
were  somewhat  circumscribed,  for  there  is  a  real  winter  in 
the  Black  Hills.  But  she  was  in  robust  health  again  and 
she  turned  her  energies  more  and  more  to  church  work. 
She  was  depended  on  to  get  up  the  "sociables,"  to  plan  the 
entertainments,  to  invent  new  and  happy  games  that  would 
take  them  as  near  as  they  dared  go  in  the  direction  of  dance 
and  stage  without  actually  outraging  the  old-fashioned 
Methodist  conscience  by  getting  there.  It  was  Belle  who 


BELLE  BOYD  89 

entirely  refurnished  the  parsonage  in  one  harmonious  style 
by  copying  a  mission  chair  and  table  from  a  picture,  and 
then  inviting  each  of  the  boys  to  make  a  like  piece,  and 
each  of  the  girls  to  make  a  "drape  "  to  match  it.  It  was  a 
sort  of  Noah's  Ark  trick,  this  gathering  in  of  things  in 
pairs,  but  it  succeeded  originally — the  ark  was  full — and  it 
succeeded  now,  for  the  parsonage  was  full;  and  it  will  al 
ways  succeed,  for  it  is  built  on  the  old  fundamental  pairing 
instinct. 

Belle  also  imported  and  put  in  practical  working  the  idea 
of  a  daily  school  'bus,  which  gathered  up  the  twenty-odd 
children  for  ten  miles  along  the  winter  road  and  brought 
them  on  a  huge  hay  rack  to  the  Cedar  Mountain  School  in 
the  morning,  and  took  them  back  at  night  to  their  homes. 
But  in  all  these  multiplied  activities  there  was  a  secret  dis 
satisfaction.  She  felt  that  she  was  a  mere  hanger-on  of  the 
church,  a  sort  of  pet  cat  to  the  parson's  wife.  She  was  not 
developing  herself  independently,  and  she  began  secretly 
to  outline  a  scheme  which  meant  nothing  less  than  leaving 
home  to  take  some  sort  of  position  on  the  west  coast.  She 
had  no  fear  for  her  success,  but  she  was  restrained  by  two 
things:  the  question  of  health  in  case  she  could  not  find  an 
outdoor  enterprise,  and  the  sorrow  her  parents  would  feel 
over  her — to  their  thinking,  unnecessary — departure. 

For  some  time  both  in  her  school  and  church  work 
Belle  had  been  much  associated  with  John  Lowe,  the 
schoolteacher.  He  was  considered  a  well-meaning  person, 
a  dozen  years  older  than  herself,  and  had  certain  pleasing 
qualities,  a  suave  manner — almost  too  suave — and  a  readi 
ness  of  speech.  He  was  fairly  well  educated,  a  good  worker, 


90     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

a  member  of  the  church,  and  had  no  obvious  bad  habits. 
His  history  was  not  known;  in  fact,  no  one's  history  was 
known  in  those  days  of  beginnings.  Every  one  had  to  be 
taken  as  he  was  found  and  often  on  his  own  statement. 

Lowe  soon  became  a  devoted  admirer  of  Belle;  and  Mrs. 
Boyd,  seeing  a  chance  to  beguile  her  daughter  into  settling 
down,  did  all  she  could  to  bring  them  together,  never  losing 
a  chance  of  praising  Jack.  He  was  just  what  Belle  needed 
as  an  executive  help  to  realize  much  that  she  had  planned. 
As  a  public  reciter  he  had  some  little  prominence;  as  a 
schoolteacher  he  was  just  a  step  nearer  the  world  of  brains 
than  were  the  other  possible  men  in  town,  and  by  that 
much  more  acceptable;  and  the  inevitable  result  of  pro 
pinquity  was  reached.  The  engagement  of  Belle  Boyd 
and  Jack  Lowe  was  announced. 

There  was  no  ardent  love-making  on  either  side,  and 
sometimes  Belle,  when  left  alone,  would  wonder  why  she 
was  not  more  elated  each  time  she  heard  him  coming; 
rather,  she  seemed  to  feel  weighted  by  the  attachment, 
She  reproached  herself  for  this  and  as  she  strove  to  reach  a 
more  satisfactory  state  of  mind  she  found  herself  thinking 
with  a  sigh  of  that  free  career  she  had  planned  in  the  busi 
ness  world.  Mrs.  Boyd's  maternal  hopes  were  too  nearly 
realized  to  leave  her  with  any  discernment  and  Belle's 
father  was  too  much  wrapped  up  in  business  and  small 
politics,  to  see  even  the  mountains  that  were  beyond  his 
back  yard;  but  another  frequent  visitor  at  the  house  was 
gifted  with  better  eyes  and  more  knowledge  of  the  world. 

Dr.  Carson  had  never  felt  attracted  toward  Lowe.  In 
stinctively  he  disliked  him.  He  knew  at  the  beginning 


BELLE  BOYD  91 

that  the  teacher  was  much  older  than  he  admitted.  The 
facts  that  the  Boyds  were  well-to-do  and  that  Belle  was 
their  only  child  offered,  in  his  frame  of  mind,  a  suggestive 
sidelight.  There  were  two  other  things  that  to  Carson 
seemed  important:  one,  that  Lowe  had  rather  obviously 
avoided  any  reference  to  his  previous  place  of  residence; 
the  other  that  at  one  of  the  sociables  he  had  amused  them 
all  by  some  exceedingly  clever  sleight-of-hand  tricks  with 
cards — not  playing-cards,  of  course — they  were  un 
mentionable — but  with  a  few  business  cards  marked  in  a 
special  way.  Carson  was  sure  he  knew  in  what  school  such 
manual  dexterity  had  been  acquired. 

The  doubts  in  Belle's  mind  had  not  yet  taken  definite 
form  when  a  new  and  unpleasant  circumstance  obtruded. 
More  than  once  lately  Lowe  had  come  to  the  house  carry 
ing  the  unmistakable  odour  of  drink  about  him.  It  was 
smothered  with  cloves  and  peppermint,  but  still  discover 
able.  Belle's  ideas  were  not  narrow,  but  this  thing 
shocked  and  disgusted  her,  chiefly  because  Lowe  had  re 
peatedly  and  voluntarily  avowed  himself  as  flatly  opposed 
to  it.  She  was  thus  drifting  along  in  perplexity,  taking  the 
trail  that  her  instincts  said  was  not  her  trail,  ever  prompted 
to  cut  across  to  the  other  fork  which  meant  developing  her 
self,  and  always  restrained  by  the  fear  of  breaking  with  her 
people,  when  in  the  spring  of  that  year  the  local  press  an 
nounced  the  coming  to  Cedar  Mountain  of  the  Rev.  James 
Hartigan.  And  on  the  day  after  her  meeting  with  him 
and  their  unexpected  adventure  with  the  runaway,  the 
parson's  wife  gave  a  tea  to  introduce  the  young  man  to  the 
congregation. 


92     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Jim's  eyes  met  hers  the  moment  she  entered  Jebb's  par 
lour.  His  greeting  was  a  joyous  one  and  Belle  felt  the 
colour  mount  in  her  cheeks  as  Hartigan  drew  her  aside  to 
talk.  There  was  something  very  stimulating  about  him, 
she  found — a  thrill  in  his  voice,  his  eyes,  and  his  presence 
that  she  had  never  experienced  with  Lowe. 

A  little  later,  Lowe  himself  arrived.  Belle,  as  she  turned 
to  greet  him,  got  an  unpleasant  shock  to  note  the  contrast 
between  the  frank,  boyish  face  of  the  curly-haired  giant  and 
the  thin  features  and  restless  eyes  of  the  man  she  had 
promised  to  marry.  Her  conscience  smote  her  for  dis 
loyalty;  but  in  her  heart  she  was  not  satisfied.  Vague, 
unspoken,  half-realized  criticisms  of  past  months  rose  to 
fill  her  with  disquiet.  A  cumulative  unhappiness  in  her 
association  with  Lowe  took  possession  of  her.  And,  as  she 
watched  with  a  little  thrill  the  meeting  between  Jack  and 
the  Preacher,  she  read  plainly  on  the  face  of  her  fiance  the 
disapproval  that  even  his  practised  art  could  not  conceal. 
For  her,  the  meeting  was  portentous;  it  marked  a  turning- 
point;  and  as  she  thought  of  it  later  she  took  a  slightly 
guilty  pleasure  in  the  fact  that  without  a  clash  of  words 
there  was  at  once  a  clash  of  personalities,  and  that  the 
Preacher  had  dominated  the  scene. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PREACHER  JIM'S  FIRST  SERMON 

THE  Sunday  on  which  Jim  first  appeared  in  the  pulpit 
will  long  be  remembered  in  Cedar  Mountain. 
The  "grapevine  telegraph"  had  been  working 
hard  so  that  all  the  world  of  that  region  had  heard  of  the 
new  preacher,  and  curiosity  to  see  him  was  responsible, 
more  than  anything  else,  for  a  church  filled  with  critical 
folk. 

The  sight  of  all  the  riot  and  wickedness  about  the  Black 
Hills,  the  mad  striving  after  sudden  gold,  and  the  total 
lack  of  real  joy  in  its  use  after  getting  it,  suggested  to  Jim  a 
sermon  founded  on  the  proverb :  "  Better  is  a  dinner  of 
herbs  a.id  contentment  therewith,  etc.  .  .  . "  But,  for 
once  in  his  life,  Hartigan  was  a  little  abashed  by  the  situa 
tion  and,  reciting  the  verses  from  memory,  he  managed  to 
get  them  mixed  and  rendered  them  thus:  "Better  is  a 
stalled  ox  and  contentment  therewith  than  a  dinner  of 
herbs  with  a  brawling  woman."  It  made  an  unexpected 
hit.  Realizing  his  blunder,  he  smiled  broadly  and  added: 

"Well,  if  you  have  any  doubts  about  Solomon's  state 
ment,  you  can  have  none  whatever  about  mine." 

He  then  went  on  to  preach  a  most  extraordinary  dis 
course  in  which  fun,  wit,  and  humour  were  occasionally 
interspersed  with  allusions  to  the  subject  matter.  No 

93 


94     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

arguments,  no  logic,  were  discoverable;  but  there  were 
plenty  of  amusing  illustrations,  a  good  deal  that  might  bet 
ter  have  been  left  out,  and  the  audience  was  highly 
amused  though  wholly  unedified. 

"And  how  did  ye  like  my  sermon?"  was  the  hearty 
greeting  Hartigan  gave  Belle  Boyd  next  day,  as  they  met  on 
the  boardwalk  of  Main  Street.  She  glanced  up  with  a  faint 
flush,  looked  down,  then  meeting  his  eyes  squarely  she 
said: 

"Some  parts  I  liked,  but  much  of  it  I  did  not." 

This  was  an  unexpected  reply;  Jim  had  quite  looked  for 
a  burst  of  admiration.  In  answer  to  his  questions,  Belle 
gave  an  analysis  of  the  sermon,  as  they  walked  along,  point 
ing  out  the  clay  and  the  gold,  and  the  total  lack  of  form. 

His  attitude,  at  first,  had  been  superior  and  his  tone 
frivolous.  For,  strange  to  say,  the  gallantry  so  strong  in 
his  Irish  blood  is  ever  mixed  with,  or  maybe  it  is  a  mere 
mark  of  belief  in,  the  superiority  of  the  male.  But,  before 
Belle  had  finished  two  things  had  happened — he  was  much 
less  sure  of  his  sermon  and  was  a  little  in  awe  of  her. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  that  she  was  right.  Yes,  those  two 
stories  would  have  been  better  left  out;  an  early  paragraph 
should  have  been  at  the  end,  for  it  was  the  summing  up; 
and  the  illogical  conclusion,  which  had  no  promise  in  any 
thing  he  said  before,  was  weak,  to  say  the  least.  Hartigan 
felt  much  as  he  used  to  feel  when  his  mother  had  called  him 
into  a  detailed  account  of  some  doubtful  conduct. 

"What  are  you  going  to  give  us  next  time?"  inquired 
Belle. 

"I  thought  of  beginning  a  series  of  sermons  on  the  bad 


PREACHER  JIM'S  FIRST  SERMON          95 

habits  of  the  congregation — swearing,  drinking,  gambling, 
horse-racing,  smoking,  and  spitting.  Last  Sunday,  right 
by  the  door  in  church,  two  men  were  smoking  their  pipes 
and  spitting  on  the  floor.  It  seems  to  me  that  Revelations 
xi  :2  is  about  the  right  medicine  for  such  conduct.  This  is 
the  text:  'And  he  opened  the  bottomless  pit  and  there 
arose  a  smoke  out  of  the  pit/  Or  Psalms  xxxvn:  20:  The 
wicked  shall  perish  .  .  .  into  smoke  shall  they  consume 
away/  Then  there  is  a  passage  in  Jeremiah  vn:  30:  'They 
have  set  their  abominations  in  the  house  which  is  called 
by  my  name  to  pollute  it/  With  these  I  think  we  have 
a  good  scaffolding  to  build  on." 

Belle  looked  puzzled  and  said  nothing.  Hartigan  was 
waiting  for  her  approval.  He  wanted  it. 

"What  do  you  think?"  he  asked,  a  decided  note  of 
anxiety  creeping  into  his  question. 

"I  would  not  do  it,"  was  the  answer. 

"Why  not?"  said  Jim  instantly  on  the  defensive. 
"Don't  they  need  it,  and  aren't  they  awfully  weak  on 
these  things?" 

"Yes,  they  are,"  said  Belle,  "but " 

"But  what?" 

"Mr.  Hartigan,"  she  replied  as  she  stopped  at  her  gate, 
"if  you  wanted  a  rich  man  to  help  a  poor  widow,  and  went 
to  him  saying:  'You  miserable  old  skinflint,  I  know  you 
are  as  greedy  as  the  pit,  but  I  demand  it  as  a  human  right 
that  you  help  this  poor  woman  out  of  your  ill-gotten 
abundance,'  how  much  are  you  going  to  get?  Nothing 
at  all;  and  the  truer  it  is  the  less  your  chance.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  you  go  to  him  and  say:  'Mr.  Dives,  you  are 


96     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

one  of  the  few  men  in  town  who  have  the  power  to  help  this 
woman.  I  know  she  is  well  worthy  of  help,  for  she's  hav 
ing  a  hard  struggle.  Now,  you  had  a  struggle  once  and 
know  what  that  means.  It  made  a  keen,  successful  busi 
ness  man  of  you;  but  I  know  you  are  kind-hearted  and 
generous  and  that  all  you  want  is  to  be  sure  that  the  case  is 
genuine.  Well,  I  can  assure  you  it  is.  Will  you  not  help 
her  with  the  rent  till  strawberry  time,  when  she  expects  to 
get  a  little  money?'  That  way  you  will  get  something. 
He  has  to  become  generous  when  you  say  he  is;  and  I  think 
that  you  will  get  more  out  of  these  people  if  you  assume 
that  they  are  something  good.  Later,  when  they  know 
you  better,  you  can  put  them  right  on  their  faults." 

Hartigan  stared  at  her  with  frankly  admiring  eyes. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you  surely  have  the  level  head.  You 
are  right  and  I  will  do  as  you  say.  But  I  wonder  why  you 
take  all  this  trouble  with  me?" 

Flushed  and  happy  over  her  victory  and  very  deeply 
moved  by  the  look  she  had  seen  on  Jim's  face,  Belle  realized 
the  full  meaning  of  her  success  and  took  a  woman's  pride 
in  the  fact  that  this  great,  powerful,  self-confident,  gifted 
man  should  in  two  short  encounters  completely  change 
about  and  defer  to  her  judgment.  There  was  a  moment's 
silence  in  which  she  sought  to  get  her  voice  under  control. 
Then  she  added: 

"Will  you  let  me  know  what  you  decide  to  preach  on?" 

"I  will,"  said  Jim,  his  eyes  still  on  her  face. 

They  had  been  standing  at  the  door  of  the  Boyd  home. 
In  that  instant  of  his  dependence  upon  her  Belle  had  been 
conscious  of  a  very  sweet  and  precious  bond  between  them. 


PREACHER  JIM'S  FIRST  SERMON          97 

Without  turning  toward  him,  she  touched  his  arm  lightly 
with  her  hand  and  went  into  the  house. 


Jim's  first  effort  had  not  encouraged  Dr.  Jebb  to  trans 
fer  much  of  the  pulpit  service  to  the  young  man.  Sub 
sequently,  he  had  a  long  talk  with  him  and  pointed  out 
some  of  the  defects  as  Belle  had  done;  also  a  number  of 
lapses  which,  though  purely  academic,  he  considered  of 
prime  importance.  Thus,  more  than  a  month  elapsed  be 
fore  Jim  was  again  called  to  fill  the  pulpit. 

Meanwhile,  he  had  had  many  experiences  of  value  in  his 
widespread  congregation,  among  them  the  raising  of  a 
charitable  fund  for  an  unfortunate  neighbour,  and  he  had 
become  well  acquainted  with  Jack  Shives,  the  blacksmith, 
a  singular  mixture  of  brusqueness  and  kindness.  Shives 
was  a  good  citizen  who  did  good  work  at  the  forge,  but  he 
was  utterly  opposed  to  all  creeds  and  churches.  He  made 
it  a  point  to  set  all  the  weight  of  his  solid  character  against 
these,  as  well  as  the  power  of  his  biting  tongue. 

As  soon  as  Dr.  Jebb  asked  him  to  take  the  pulpit,  Jim 
called  on  Belle. 

"Well,  I'm  to  have  another  chance,"  he  said,  as  with  one 
hand  he  lifted  an  armchair  that  Dr.  Jebb  could  not  have 
moved  at  all. 

"Good,"  said  she.     "What  is  the  subject  to  be?" 

"I  have  three  subjects  I  wish  to  treat,"  he  began;  "one, 
foreign  missions;  the  next  is  the  revised  version  of  the  New 
Testament;  and  the  last  is  the  secularizing  influence  of 
church  clubs.  Which  do  you  say?" 


98     THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Belle  looked  serious.     At  length  she  said: 

"Maybe  you  can  make  something  constructive  out  of 
these  ideas.  It  depends  on  how  you  handle  them;  but 
they  seem  to  me  far-off  and  doubtful." 

He  looked  the  disappointment  he  felt  and  waited  for  her 
to  go  on. 

"What  was  the  good  thing  that  struck  you  most  when 
you  came  among  us  ? " 

Hartigan  gazed  through  the  window  at  the  round  top  of 
Cedar  Mountain,  then  at  the  frank  face  of  the  slim  girl, 
and  with  a  little  outburst  of  his  real  nature  he  cried: 

"Bejabers,  it  was  the  kind  way  you  all  received  me." 

"All  right,  then;  why  not  make  that  your  subject  for  the 
next  sermon?  Let  these  people  know  that  you  think 
they  are  kind,  and  that  they  make  you  feel  it,  and  they 
will  become  kinder.  Then,  when  you  are  established  in 
their  hearts,  you  can  talk  about  their  faults.  That  will 
come  later.  Since  we  must  find  a  scripture  text  to  hang 
your  talk  on,  let's  take  Ephesians  iv:32:  'Be  ye  kind  one 
to  another,  tender  hearted,  forgiving  one  another  even  as 
God  for  Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven  you." 

The  sermon  was  duly  outlined.  The  outline  was 
brought  for  Belle  to  hear.  She  was  keenly  interested  be 
cause  in  some  sense  she  was  on  trial;  and  under  the  stimu 
lating  influence  of  her  attention,  Jim  expanded  the  outline 
to  a  whole  sermon  and  preached  it  all  to  Belle  then  and 
there.  It  was  full  of  eloquent  passages  and  wholesome  les 
sons,  but  it  was  far  too  long,  as  Belle  insisted;  and  again 
there  was  a  readjustment  with  the  result  that  on  the  fol 
lowing  Sunday  Hartigan  delivered  a  brilliant  sermon  on 


PREACHER  JIM'S  FIRST  SERMON          99 

Kindness,  the  kindness  he  had  received,  the  kindness  that 
is  the  heart  of  all  true  religion.  The  quaint  humour,  the 
vivid  presentation,  and  the  every-day  applications  were 
new  and  true  notes  to  that  congregation.  It  shocked  some 
of  the  old-fashioned  type,  but  the  reality  it  gave  to  re 
ligion  was  not  lost,  and  the  human  interest  and  sincerity 
of  it  held  every  mind.  It  cannot  be  given  in  full,  but  the 
opening  passages  will  illustrate  Jim's  theme  and  his 
method.  After  reading  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samari 
tan,  he  said: 

"Now,  friends,  I  have  selected  the  story  of  the  Good 
Samaritan  for  a  starting  point;  and  it's  a  good  one,  even 
if  I  never  get  back  to  it  through  the  whole  length  of  the 
sermon. 

"I  want  you  to  understand  that  here  was  a  man  who 
was  a  kind  of  outcast;  he  didn't  go  to  church  and  he 
didn't  know  or  care  a  cent  about  doctrines  or  creeds;  his 
people  were  notorious  for  wine  drinking  so  that  it's  more 
than  likely  he  was  often  drunk,  and  it's  ten  to  one  he 
swore  every  time  he  got  mad.  But  he  was  ready  to  lend 
a  helping  hand  to  anybody  that  had  need  of  him. 

"And  I  want  you  to  note  that  the  men  who  would  not 
do  a  ringer's  tap  to  help  were  a  holy  priest  with  a  big 
salary  and  a  highly  respectable  church  member  in  train 
ing  for  the  ministry.  So  you  see,  the  Lord  selected 
these  three  to  illustrate  this  point  then,  now,  and  for  all 
time,  that  he  had  nothing  but  contempt  for  the  cold 
blooded  holy-rollers  and  that  the  ignorant  outcast  in 
fidel  was  his  sort  because  he  had  a  kind  heart. 

"Now,  friends,  we've  all  three  kinds  right  with  us  all 
the  time.  Though  I  don't  go  much  on  mincing  words,  I 
won't  specify  the  priest  nor  the  .Levite  right  here  in 


ioo    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Cedar  Mountain;  but  I  will  make  mention  of  the  Good 
Samaritan. 

"Ye  see,  it  wasn't  exactly  a  case  of  being  held  up  by 
robbers;  but  we  had  to  raise  enough  to  get  the  Hanky 
family  out  of  their  troubles  when  Jack  Hanky  broke  his 
arm,  his  leg,  his  buggy,  and  his  bank  account  all  on  one 
and  the  same  unlucky  day ;  and  it  was  my  job  to  raise  the 
wind  to  help  him  weather  the  storm.  Well,  I  went 
about  as  you  all  know,  and  got  a  little  here  and  a  little 
there;  then  squeezed  out  a  little  more  from  some  of  the 
dry  sponges,  and  still  was  short.  So  I  went  to  Jack 
Shives  and  he  contributed  more  than  any  one  else;  and 
then,  on  top  of  that,  he  put  Hanky's  buggy  in  good  shape 
without  a  cent  of  pay,  and  went  down  night  after  night  to 
sit  at  his  bedside  and  help  him  pass  the  long  hours  away. 

"Now  the  fact  is,  Jack  Shives  and  I  have  had  many  a 
fight  on  religious  questions.  He  swears  and  drinks  all  he 
wants  to,  which  I'm  bound  to  say  isn't  much.  He 
jokes  about  the  church  and  the  preacher  and  every  one 
that  goes  to  church.  He  pokes  fun  at  the  hymn  book 
and  laughs  at  the  Bible  and  every  one  that  tries  to  fol 
low  it  word  for  word.  Jack  thinks  he's  all  kinds  of  an 
infidel;  but  he  isn't.  I  have  a  notion  of  my  own  that  he's 
a  better  Christian  than  he  allows,  better  than  a  good 
many  church  members  I  could  name.  In  fact,  I  be 
lieve  if  the  Lord  Jesus  were  to  get  off  at  Cedar  Mountain 
from  to-morrow's  noon  train,  the  first  thing  he  would  do 
would  be  to  go  to  the  post  office  and  say:  'Can  you  tell 
me  where  Jack  Shives,  the  blacksmith,  lives?  He's  a 
particular  friend  of  mine,  he's  done  a  lot  of  little  odd  jobs 
for  me  and  I  guess  I'll  put  up  at  his  house  while  I'm  in 
Cedar  Mountain." 

And  so  he  talked  for  the  allotted  time,  translating  the 
age-old  truth  into  terms  of  to-day  and  personal  applica- 


PREACHER  JIM'S  FIRST  SERMON        .101 

tion.  A  few  of  the  older  folk  thought  he  treated  some  very 
serious  subjects  too  lightly;  they  preferred  the  sing-song 
tone  so  long  associated  with  scripture  texts.  Others  had 
their  doubts  as  to  Jim's  theology.  His  eulogy  of  the 
blacksmith  was  a  little  too  impulsive,  but  none  had  any 
question  of  the  thrilling  human  interest  of  his  words  and 
the  completeness  of  his  hold  on  every  one's  attention.  It 
was  wholesome,  if  not  orthodox;  it  drove  home  with  con 
viction;  it  made  them  laugh  and  cry;  and  it  was  a  master 
piece  of  the  simple  eloquence  that  was  so  much  his  gift  and 
of  the  humour  that  was  the  birthright  of  his  race. 

From  that  day  forth  the  doubtful  impressions  created 
by  Hartigan's  first  appearance  in  the  pulpit  were  wiped  out 
and  he  was  reckoned  as  a  new  and  very  potent  force  in  the 
community. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE   LURE   OF  THE   SADDLE 

ONE  of  the  needs  that  Hartigan  very  soon  became 
aware  of  in  his  far-flung  pastoral  work  was  that  o{ 
a  good  saddle  horse.  An  income  of  three  hundred 
dollars  a  year  will  not  maintain  very  much  in  the  way  of  a 
stable,  but  a  horse  had  to  be  got,  and  the  idea  of  looking  for 
one  was  exceedingly  pleasant  to  him.  It  needed  but  the 
sight  and  smell  of  the  horse  leathers  to  rouse  the  old  pas 
sion  bred  and  fostered  in  Downey's  stable.  He  loved  the 
saddle,  he  knew  horses  as  few  men  did,  and  had  he  been 
ninety  pounds  lighter  he  would  have  made  a  famous  jockey. 

For  many  days  he  was  able  to  put  his  mind  on  nothing 
else.  He  eagerly  took  every  chance  to  visit  likely  stock;  he 
was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  astride  of  some  mettle 
some  animal,  interpreting  its  moods  as  only  the  born  horse 
man  can  do,  and  drawing  on  the  reserves  of  strength 
which  are  closed  to  all  but  the  expert  rider.  He  responded 
in  every  fibre  of  his  great  physique  to  the  zest  of  this  re 
newed  experience  of  a  loved  and  lost  stable  life,  and  yet  the 
very  passion  of  his  enjoyment  appalled  him  at  times  for  it 
seemed  to  be  in  some  sense  a  disloyalty  to  the  new  life  he 
had  taken  up  and  to  draw  him  away  from  it. 

In  those  days  there  were  motley  bands  of  immigrants 
crossing  the  plains  from  the  East,  making  for  the  Black 

102 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  SADDLE  103 

Hills  as  an  island  of  promise  in  the  great  open  sea,  and  one 
of  these  wanderers  from  far-off  Illinois  arrived  one  evening 
with  the  usual  outfit  of  prairie  schooner,  oxen,  milch  cow, 
saddle  horses,  dogs,  and  children.  Calamity  had  over 
taken  the  caravan.  The  mother  had  died;  the  father  was 
disgusted  with  the  country  and  everything  in  it;  and  his 
one  idea  was  to  sell  his  outfit  and  get  the  children  back 
East,  back  to  school  and  granny.  At  the  auction,  the 
cattle  brought  good  prices,  but  no  one  wanted  the  horses. 
They  were  gaunt  and  weary,  saddle-  and  spur-galled;  one 
young  and  the  other  past  middle  life.  It  was  the  young 
horse  that  caught  Hartigan's  eye.  It  was  rising  three,  a 
well-built  skeleton,  but  with  a  readiness  to  look  alert,  a 
full  mane  and  tail,  and  a  glint  of  gold  on  the  coat  that  had 
a  meaning  and  a  message  for  the  horse-wise.  The  auc 
tioneer  was  struggling  to  raise  a  bid. 

"Will  any  one  bid  on  this  fine  young  colt ?  All  he  needs 
is  oats,  and  a  few  other  things." 

A  laugh  went  up,  which  was  just  what  the  auctioneer 
wanted,  for  merriment  is  essential  to  a  successful  sale. 

"Here  now,  boys,  who  will  start  him  at  five  dollars? 
And  him  worth  a  hundred." 

It  was  too  much  for  Hartigan.  He  raised  his  finger  to 
the  auctioneer. 

"There,  now,  there's  a  preacher  that  knows  a  horse," 
he  prattled  away,  but  no  second  offer  came,  and  the  colt 
was  knocked  down  to  Hartigan  for  five  greasy  dollars. 

"A  good  clean-down  is  worth  a  bushel  of  oats  to  a  horse," 
is  old  stable  wisdom,  "and  a  deal  cheaper,"  as  Hartigan 
added.  Within  the  hour  Blazing  Star,  as  the  new  owner 


io4    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

named  him  from  the  star  blaze  in  his  forehead,  was  rubbed 
and  curry-combed  as  probably  he  never  had  been  in  his  life 
before.  He  was  fed  with  a  little  grain  and  an  abundance 
of  prairie  hay,  his  wounds  were  painted  with  iodine  and  his 
mane  was  plaited.  He  was  handled  from  forelock  to  fet 
lock  and  rubbed  and  massaged  like  a  prizefighter  who  is  out 
for  mighty  stakes. 

"They  are  just  like  humans,"  Hartigan  remarked  to  the 
"perchers"  at  Shives's  blacksmith  shop.  "All  they  need  is 
kindness  and  common  sense." 

Before  a  month  had  gone,  Hartigan  was  offered  fifty 
dollars  for  the  colt;  and  this  in  a  land  where  twenty-five 
dollars  is  the  usual  price  for  a  saddle  horse.  In  truth,  no 
one  would  have  recognized  this  fine,  spirited  young  horse 
as  the  sorry  jade  that  landed  in  the  town  a  short  four  weeks 
before.  But  Hartigan,  who  had  a  trainer's  eye,  said  to  Shives 
and  the  "perchers": 

"Wait  for  two  months  and  then  you  will  see  some 
thing." 

And  they  did.  They  saw  the  young  Achilles  riding 
down  the  street  on  the  wonderful  chosen  steed  of  all  the 
herd.  There  were  perfectly  balanced  life  and  power  in 
every  move  of  both,  the  eagerness  to  up  and  do,  the  grace 
of  consummate  animalism.  They  had  seen  many  a  fine 
man  on  a  noble  horse,  but  never  before  had  they  beheld  a 
picture  so  satisfying  to  both  eye  and  heart  as  that  of  the 
Preacher  on  his  five-dollar  steed. 

Five  miles  from  Cedar  Mountain  is  Fort  Ryan  and  to  the 
south  of  it  a  plain,  where  every  year  in  the  first  week  of 
July  the  Indians  gather  in  their  tepees  and  the  whites  in 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  SADDLE  105 

tents  and  prairie  schooners  for  a  sort  of  fair,  in  which  are 
many  kinds  of  sin  on  the  largest  scale.  Herds  of  horses  are 
there,  and  racing  is  a  favourite  sport.  It  was  here  on  the 
Fourth  of  July  that  an  Indian  on  a  rough-looking  buck 
skin  pony  had  won,  over  all  the  field  that  year,  a  purse  con 
taining  five  hundred  (Jollars.  The  whites,  who  had  their 
racers  set  at  naught,  were  ready  for  almost  any  scheme 
that  promised  them  revenge,  and  they  made  an  ill-favoured 
and  sulky  lot  as  they  sat  on  the  shady  side  of  the  movable 
saloon  that  lingered  still  on  the  racing  plain.  Their  eyes 
were  pinched  at  the  corners  with  gazing  at  the  sunlight, 
and  their  ragged  beards  were  like  autumn  grass.  A  horse 
man  appeared  in  the  distance,  and  ambled  toward  them. 
This  was  a  common  enough  sight,  but  the  easy  pace  was 
pleasing  to  the  eye,  and  when  he  drew  near  these  men 
of  the  saddle  found  a  horseman's  pleasure  in  the  clean 
limbed  steed  so  easily  ridden. 

" Guess  it's  the  new  preacher,"  said  one  with  a  laugh. 
"He's  come  down  from  Cedar  Mountain  to  save  us  from 
Hell,  as  if  Hell  could  be  any  worse  than  this." 

Hartigan  drew  up  to  inquire  the  direction  to  a  certain 
cabin  and  when  he  learned  the  way  he  rode  on. 

"Looks  to  me  like  he  would  have  made  a  cowboy,  if  they 
had  ketched  him  young." 

"Do  you  see  that  horse?  Ain't  there  some  blood 
there?" 

"Yes,  there  is,"  said  Long  Bill,  "and  it  strikes  me  it  is 
worth  following  up.  Let's  have  another  look." 

The  group  sauntered  to  where  the  Preacher  was  making 
a  call  and  one  of  them  began: 


106    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Say,  mister,  that's  quite  a  horse  you've  got  there;  want 
to  sell  him?" 

"No." 

"Looks  like  a  speeder." 

"  Yes,  there's  nothing  in  Cedar  Mountain  to  touch  him." 

"Say,  mister,"  said  cattleman  Kyle," if  he's  a  winner, 
here's  your  chance  to  roll  up  a  wad." 

Hartigan  stared  and  waited.  The  cult  of  the  horse  is 
very  ancient,  but  its  ways  are  ever  modern. 

"You  say  he's  a  great  speeder;  will  you  try  him  against 
Kyle's  horse? "said  Long  Bill. 

Jim  looked  a  rebuff  and  shook  his  head. 

"Oh,  just  a  friendly  race,"  the  man  went  on;  "Kyle 
thinks  he  has  the  best  American  horse  in  town."  And  as 
various  members  of  the  party  looked  more  critically  at 
Blazing  Star  and  felt  his  limbs  they  became  more  insistent. 

When  Jim  had  joined  the  Church,  horse-racing  was  one 
of  the  deadly  sins  he  had  abjured.  So  while  he  refused  to 
enter  a  race,  he  was  easily  persuaded  to  ride  his  horse 
against  Kyle's  for  a  friendly  mile.  Whether  begun  as  a 
race  or  not,  it  was  in  deadly  earnest  after  the  first  fifty 
yards  and  it  proved  just  what  they  needed  to  know:  that 
Kyle's  horse,  which  had  been  a  good  second  best  with  the 
Indian,  was  a  poor  second  in  the  race  with  Blazing  Star. 
With  this  essential  information,  Kyle  asked  if  he  could 
hire  Hartigan's  horse  for  a  brush  with  the  Indian. 

Hartigan  went  through  a  most  painful  struggle  with  his 
conscience.  But  clearly  "this  was  not  a  regular  race." 
It  was  "just  a  sort  of  speed  test  with  an  Indian  pony  like 
the  one  he  had  had  with  Kyle."  He  was  not  going  to  ride 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  SADDLE     107 

in  it.  He  would  only  rent  his  horse  for  wages.  "Sure, 
every  one  hires  out  his  horse  when  he  has  a  good  one."  So 
Blazing  Star  was  hired  out  to  Kyle,  and  a  new  though  un 
important  race  was  arranged,  for  a  stake,  otherwise  the 
Indian  would  not  have  taken  the  trouble  to  ride.  The 
Red-men's  black  eyes  looked  keenly  on  as  he  meas 
ured  the  new  horse.  Then  the  unexpected  happened. 
Blazing  Star  was  not  accustomed  to  the  new  jockey,  the 
gentle  ways  that  had  fostered  his  speed  were  lacking. 
The  rider's  idea  was  whip  and  spur  and  go  from  the 
start.  =  The  horse  got  "rattled"  and  the  Indian  pony 
won.  The  defeat  stirred  Hartigan  to  a  rage  such  as 
he  had  not  experienced  in  months.  The  unrest  of  his 
conscience  over  the  affair,  coupled  with  his  contempt 
and  fury  at  the  bad  horsemanship  of  the  rider,  set 
loose  from  his  tongue  a  lurid  torrent  blended  of  Links, 
Scripture,  and  Black  Hills. 

"Here,  you  jelly-backed  cowpuncher,  let  me  show  you 
how  to  ride.  Will  you  ride  again?"  he  shouted  to  the 
Indian,  as  the  latter  put  the  roll  of  bills  in  his  tobacco  pouch. 

The  Indian  shook  his  head. 

"I  will  put  that  up  twenty-five  dollars  to  nothing,"  and 
Hartigan  held  up  the  twenty-five  dollars  he  had  received 
as  hire  for  his  horse.  Again  the  Indian  shook  his  head. 
"I'll  give  you  that  if  you'll  ride."  Jim  held  up  a  ten, 
"and  double  it  if  you  win." 

With  a  gesture,  the  Indian  consented,  received  the  bill, 
and  put  it  with  the  rest.  They  rode  to  the  starting 
post,  were  unceremoniously  started,  and  Hartigan  showed 
how  much  a  man  could  do  for  a  horse.  In  spite  of  his 


io8    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

rider's  great  weight  that  splendid  beast  responded  to 
every  word,  and  when  on  the  home  run  Hartigan  used 
the  quirt,  Blazing  Star  seemed  to  know  it  was  merely  a 
signal,  not  an  insulting  urge,  and  let  himself  go.  The  In 
dian  pony,  too,  was  doing  his  utmost,  but  Blazing  Star 
swept  past  his  opponent  and  led  at  the  finish  by  more  than 
a  length;  the  race  was  won;  and  Hartigan  wakened  up  as  a 
man  out  of  a  dream  to  face  the  awful  fact  that  he,  a  min 
ister  of  the  gospel,  had  not  only  ridden  in  a  horse  race,  but 
had  gambled  on  the  same. 


CHAPTER  XV 
PAT  BYLOW'S   SPREE 

A  THE  time  of  the  incidents  at  Fort  Ryan,  Belle 
was  away  on  a  visit  to  Deadwood.  Otherwise, 
Hartigan  would  surely  have  consulted  her  and 
profited  by  her  calmer  judgment  in  the  matter  of  the  race. 
As  it  was,  his  torturing  sense  of  moral  iniquity  led  him  to 
preach  a  sermon  in  which  he  poured  forth  all  the  intensity 
of  his  nature.  Quietly  to  drop  the  subject  was  not  his  way ; 
he  knew  that  every  one  was  talking  about  it,  so  nothing 
would  do  but  a  public  denunciation  of  himself,  and  all  that 
followed  the  race  track. 

The  text  he  chose  was :  "  My  wounds  stink,  and  are  cor 
rupt,  because  of  my  foolishness"  (Psalms  xxxvm:5). 
Jim's  thought  was  that  once  the  sinner  is  saved,  all  his  sins 
become  peculiarly  and  especially  repugnant  to  him.  They 
acquire  nothing  less  than  a  stehch  in  his  nostrils,  and  hence 
forth  are  as  repellent  as  once  they  were  attractive,  no  mat 
ter  what  they  may  be;  and  he  enumerated  drunkenness, 
swearing,  gambling,  and  horse-racing.  At  mention  of  the 
last  a  smile  spread  over  the  faces  of  the  congregation.  He 
noted  it  at  once,  and  said : 

"Yes,  I  know  what  you  are  thinking.  You  are  wonder 
ing  how  I  came  to  ride  my  horse  in  a  race  at  Fort  Ryan. 
Well,  it  was  the  devil  laid  a  snare  for  me,  and  I  fell  in.  But 

109 


no    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

this  I  will  say:  I  promise  you  I  will  never  do  the  like  again, 
and  if  each  of  you  will  stand  up  now  and  give  me  the  same 
promise  about  your  own  particular  besetting  sin,  then  I'll 
feel  that  we  have  made  a  great  gain,  and  I  will  be  glad  I 
rode  that  race  after  all." 

In  this  land  of  the  horse  no  one  was  long  inclined  to 
take  the  matter  seriously.  A  nature  so  buoyant  as  his 
could  not  long  be  downcast,  and  Hartigan's  sense  of  sin  for 
his  part  in  the  race  was  soon  put  behind  him.  Then  hap 
pened  an  incident  that  gave  him  a  chance  to  score  a 
triumph. 

In  a  remote  part  of  the  valley  some  five  miles  back  of 
Cedar  Mountain  was  Bylow's  Corner,  a  group  of  three  or 
four  houses  near  the  road,  the  log  cabins  of  homesteaders. 
These  men  had,  indeed,  few  pleasures  in  life.  Their  high 
est  notion  of  joy  was  a  spree;  and  every  month  or  two  they 
would  import  a  keg  of  liquor,  generally  of  a  quality  unfit  for 
human  consumption.  The  word  had  been  passed  around 
that  Pat  Bylow  had  got  a  keg  of  the  "real  stuff,"  and 
the  rest  of  the  Corner  assembled  on  a  certain  Saturday  night 
for  an  orgy,  which  it  was  expected  would  last  about  two 
days.  Word  of  it  reached  Hartigan,  too,  and  he  decided 
that  here  was  a  glorious  opportunity  to  save  bodies  and 
souls  at  once.  Without  consulting  any  one  he  mounted 
Blazing  Star,  and  in  half  an  hour  was  at  the  Corner.  Tying 
his  horse  to  a  tree,  he  went  to  the  house  that  was  the  known 
meeting  place.  There  were  lights  in  the  window  and 
boisterous  noises  issuing  forth.  At  the  door  he  stopped 
and  listened;  rough  voices  were  grumbling;  there  was  an 
occasional  curse,  a  laugh,  then  a  woman  speaking  shrilly; 


PAT  BYLOW'S  SPREE  in 

a  minute's  silence,  during  which  the  sweet  song  of  a  night 
bird  was  heard  in  the  dark  bushes  by  the  stream,  where 
upon  a  hoarse,  brutalized  voice  shouted: 

"Oh,  hurry  up  and  start  that  bung,  you  act  like  a  school- 
girl." 

The  Preacher  knocked.  There  was  no  answer.  He 
knocked  again  and  much  louder.  There  was  a  moment's 
silence.  Then  a  heavy  voice: 

"Who's  there?" 

"It's  me,"  was  the  unhelpful  reply. 

A  man  moved  to  the  door  again  demanding: 

"Who's  there?" 

"It's  a  friend  who  wants  to  join  you." 

There  was  some  discussion,  then  the  door  was  cautiously 
opened.  The  man  inside  got  a  glimpse  of  the  tall  form  of 
the  Preacher,  let  off  a  savage  snarl  and  oath,  and  attempted 
to  slam  the  door.  But  he  was  not  quick  enough;  the 
Preacher  got  his  foot  in  and  pushed  irresistibly.  There 
were  curses  from  within  and  others  came  to  help.  But  the 
Preacher  was  too  much  for  them;  the  door  went  back  with 
a  clatter  and  he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  The  rude 
log  cabin  held  five  men,  three  women,  and  a  table  on  which 
was  a  small  keg  of  whiskey  and  some  glasses.  The  keg  had 
not  yet  been  opened,  and  the  glasses  were  empty. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  growled  the  biggest  of  the 
men,  advancing  threateningly. 

"Sure,  I  am  here  to  spill  that  accursed  stuff  on  the 
ground  and  hold  a  prayer  meeting  in  the  hopes  of  saving 
your  souls,"  was  the  answer. 

"Get  to  h — 1  out  of  this  and  mind  your  own  business," 


ii2    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

he  said,  fingering  an  ugly  knife  he  had  snatched  from  the 
table. 

Hartigan  did  not  move.  As  the  big  brute  edged  in,  not 
at  all  quickly,  for  the  fight  was  scarcely  yet  on,  Hartigan 
landed  a  swift  football  drop  kick  under  the  hand  that  held 
the  knife.  The  weapon  was  dashed  up  to  the  ceiling  and 
stuck  shivering  in  the  logs,  while  its  owner  stumbled  and 
fell  with  a  growl  of  pain,  one  hand  hanging  helpless.  Two 
other  men  rushed  to  the  attack.  They  had  no  weapons, 
and  the  Preacher  manoeuvred  to  take  them  singly.  With 
two  chops  and  an  undercut  he  laid  them  on  their  backs, 
and  the  remaining  men  refrained  from  declaring  war. 

"Sure  now,"  said  the  Preacher,  as  he  looked  calmly 
around,  "I  regret  to  have  the  meeting  open  so  unrestful, 
when  it  was  my  intention  to  start  it  with  a  prayer,  followed 
by  a  hymn  with  all  of  you  joining  in.  But  you  seemed  to 
want  it  this  way  and,  of  course,  I  had  to  humour  you.  Now 
I  will  begin  by  pouring  out  a  drink  offering  on  the  altar  of 
God." 

He  stepped  toward  the  keg.  It  was  unopened.  He 
raised  it  in  his  hands  and  dashed  it  down  on  the  floor.  It 
bounded  up  unhurt.  Realizing  his  purpose  for  the  first 
time,  the  men  gave  vent  to  savage  oaths  backed  by  an  as 
sertion  of  property  rights.  Then,  seeing  that  he  was  un 
deterred,  they  set  upon  him  with  a  rush. 

Jim,  it  must  be  confessed,  found  a  new  joy  in  that  new 
attack.  It  gave  him  a  chance  to  work  ofF  his  super 
abundant  energy.  The  confined  space  of  the  cabin  was  in 
his  favour.  He  blocked  all  attempts  to  encompass  him, 
while  his  mighty  arms  did  terrific  execution,  and  when  the 


PAT  BYLOW'S  SPREE  113 

finish  came  it  showed  the  would-be  revellers  lying  around 
in  various  positions  eloquent  of  defeat. 

"Sure,  it's  mighty  sorry  I  am,  but  I  have  to  tend  to  my 
job/' 

Going  to  the  fireplace,  and  picking  up  one  of  the  bricks 
used  to  support  the  logs,  he  smashed  in  the  head  of  the  keg 
and  spilled  the  odorous  contents  on  the  floor.  The  final 
splash  he  threw  toward  the  fire,  expecting  to  see  it  blaze 
into  a  blue  flame,  but  it  acted  as  water  and  the  room  was 
filled  with  an  evil  stench.  The  Preacher  knew  what  it 
meant;  his  contemptuous  "Humph!"  expressed  it  all. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  demanded,  as  the  tallest  of 
the  ruffians  moved  to  the  door. 

"  You  mind  your  own  business.  I  am  going  home,"  was 
the  answer. 

"Come  back  and  join  us,  we're  going  to  have  a  prayer 
meeting,"  and  Jim  stepped  over  to  the  door. 

"Now  get  down  on  your  knees,  all  of  ye,"  and  he  himself 
kneeled.  The  little  man  and  two  of  the  women  followed 
his  example. 

"Get  down  on  your  knees!"  the  Preacher  thundered  to 
those  standing.  The  big  fellow  had  got  a  stick  of  firewood 
for  a  weapon  and,  despite  his  crippled  right  hand,  was  dis 
posed  to  fight. 

"Oh,  ho!  shillelah  play,"  chuckled  Hartigan,  "that's  an 
ould,  ould  game  with  me." 

He  rose  and  picked  up  a  leg  of  the  table  broken  ofF  dur 
ing  the  struggle.  It  was  not  a  heavy  club,  but  it  was  in 
skilful  hands.  There  is  one  move  of  the  shillelah  that  the 
best  experts  have  trouble  to  parry,  that  is  the  direct  thrust. 


n4    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

The  slash  right  and  the  slash  left,  the  overhead  or  the 
undercut  have  a  simple  answer;  but  the  end-on  straight 
thrust  is  baffling.  Jim  knew  this  of  old,  and  a  moment 
later  the  big  woodsman  was  on  the  floor  with  a  bloody  nose, 
a  sense  of  shock,  and  a  disposition  to  surrender. 

"Now  come,  every  one  of  ye,  and  join  in  our  prayer 
meeting.  Come  on,"  he  beckoned  to  the  other  two,  "or  it 
will  be  me  duty  to  knock  sense  into  ye." 

And  so  he  gathered  that  graceless  group  around  him. 
Kneeling  in  their  midst,  he  prayed  for  help  to  make  them 
see  that  he  wanted  to  be  their  friend,  that  he  was  acting  for 
their  interests,  that  he  knew  as  well  as  they  did  the  hanker 
ing  for  drink. 

"O  Lord,  you  know.  And  I  know  that  anyway  that 
stuff  was  not  whiskey  at  all,  at  all;  that  it  would  not  burn  in 
the  fire,  and  I'll  bet  it  would  freeze  if  it  were  put  out  of 
doors";  and  having  contributed  these  expert  remarks,  he 
closed  with,  "Amen." 

"And  now  we  will  sing  a  hymn,"  and  he  led  them  in 
"Come  to  Jesus."  But  it  was  not  a  success,  so  he  fell 
back  on  the  praying,  which  was  his  specialty,  and  more 
than  once  his  congregation  joined  in  with  an  "amen." 
Sulky  Big  Pat  had  to  be  threatened  again,  for  he  was  of 
fighting  stock;  but  the  prayer  meeting  closed  without 
further  hostilities  and  the  orgy  had  been  made  physically 
impossible.  As  he  rose,  Hartigan  said  in  his  inimitable 
way: 

"Now,  friends,  I  want  to  apologize  to  you  all  for  seeming 
uncivil,  but  there  are  times  when  a  man  has  to  be  a  little 
abrupt,  and  if  I  have  hurt  your  feelings  or  annoyed  you  in 


PAT  BYLOW'S  SPREE  115 

any  way  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,  because  I'd  rather  be 
friends.  Let's  shake  hands  before  I  leave,  and  I  will  be 
glad  to  see  any  of  you  in  church." 

Then  a  strange  thing  happened.  The  little  man  had 
shaken  hands  effusively,  the  big  one  sulkily,  but  there  was 
one  there  who  took  the  Preacher's  hand  warmly  and  in  a 
husky  voice  said: 

"Mr.  Hartigan,  I  want  you  to  know  you  have  made  me 
think  different.  I  am  coming  to  church.  I  know  you  are 
right."  Then  turning  to  a  woman  by  his  side:  "This  is 
my  wife — she  feels  as  I  do." 

f<Thank  you  for  coming  to-night,"  said  the  woman. 
"You  will  pray  for  us,  won't  you?  We  will  try;  only  it  is 
terribly  hard,  once  you  have  taken  on  the  habit." 

"Sure,  it's  myself  that  knows  it,"  said  Hartigan.  "I've 
been  through  it  all,  I  tell  you." 

There  was  a  brotherly  warmth  in  the  Preacher's  hand 
clasp  and  in  his  words  as  he  turned  to  go  out  in  the  calm 
and  beautiful  blue  night.  The  Black  Hills'  coyotes  howled 
and  Blazing  Star  whinnied  a  mild  remonstrance  at  the  long 
desertion.  The  Preacher  mounted  and  as  he  swung 
lightly  down  the  wagon  trail,  he  had  a  sense  of  joy,  of 
triumph,  of  uplift  that  had  seldom  been  his.  Here  for 
the  first  time  he  had  put  his  great  physical  strength  to  the 
service  of  the  new  life.  It  was  a  consecration,  so  to  speak, 
of  his  bodily  powers.  And  overtopping  this  was  another 
happiness,  which,  he  was  just  beginning  to  realize,  com 
pletely  filled  his  thoughts  these  days:  the  prospect  of 
crowning  each  day's  adventures  by  telling  them  all  to 
Belle. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   NEW  INSURANCE  AGENTS 

WOMAN'S  suffrage  was  a  disturbing  question  in 
the  West  of  the  '8o's  and  it  had  not  by  any  means 
passed  Cedar  Mountain  by.     There  was  more 
than  one  fiery  dispute  among  the  "perchers"  of  Shives's 
shop,  where  Jim  was  very  fond  of  dropping  in.     Indeed 
the  smithy  was  the  public  forum  of  the  town. 

Hartigan  had  very  strong  views,  of  the  oldest  and  most 
conservative  type,  on  the  sphere  of  woman — notwithstand 
ing  the  fact  that  his  mother  had  been  the  capable  leader  of 
men.  He  did  not  say  much  about  this;  but  he  assumed 
that  the  absence  of  his  father  was  the  sole  cause  of  his 
mother's  dominance.  He  was  fond  of  quoting  St.  Paul: 
"Let  your  women  keep  silence  in  the  churches  ...  it 
is  a  shame  for  women  to  speak  in  the  church"  (I  Cor. 
xiv  134-3 5),  and  from  this  he  argued  that  silence  was 
woman's  only  duty  in  all  public  matters  of  administration, 
because  it  accorded  with  her  limitations. 

Shives,  being  twice  as  old,  was  much  less  certain.  He 
could  cite  Cleopatra,  Catherine  of  Russia,  Catherine  de' 
Medici,  and  other  familiar  names  to  prove  the  woman's 
power;  to  which  Hartigan  replied: 

"And  a  fine  moral  lot  they  were!  Was  ever  power  put 
to  more  devilish  use?" 

116 


THE  NEW  INSURANCE  AGENTS        117 

This  was  a  jibe  and  not  an  answer.  But  it  caused  a 
laugh,  and  that  always  counts  in  debate.  Then,  with 
singular  blindness  to  the  fact  that  he  himself  was  at  the 
time  being  guided  by  a  certain  young  woman,  Jim  issued 
his  challenge: 

"If  you  can  show  me  a  couple  that  started  fair  and 
square  together  on  equal  footing  and  didn't  end  with  the 
man  as  head  and  leader  in  everything  to  do  with  fighting  the 
battle  of  life,  I'll  give  in— I'm  licked." 

Two  mornings  later,  Dr.  Carson  was  standing  outside 
his  office  door,  when  he  heard  a  quick  stride  on  the  board 
walk  and  the  gay  voice  of  the  Preacher  singing  "Roy's 
Wife  of  Aldivallock." 

"The  top  of  the  morning  to  ye,  Doc,"  was  his  cheery 
greeting;  and  the  doctor  answered: 

"Say,  Jim,  come  here.  I've  got  a  good  one  for  you. 
This  is  a  brand-new  one."  They  walked  down  the  board 
walk  to  the  place  where  most  of  the  offices  were  and  there 
read  on  a  newly  placed  signboard  the  legend: 

"John  and  Hannah  Higginbotham,  Insurance  Agents." 

"How  is  that?"  said  Carson,  as  he  lit  a  cigar. 

"Well,  I'll  be — surprised,"  was  the  answer. 

As  Jim  looked  in  astonishment  the  door  was  opened  and 
a  dapper  little  man  with  a  fuzzy  red  beard  appeared. 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen,  good  morning!"  he  said,  in 
a  perfectly  good  Yankee  twang.  "Can  I  do  anything  for 
you  to-day  in  my  line?  Step  in,  gentlemen;  I'm  John 
Higginbotham."  They  entered  and,  behind  the  desk, 
sighted  a  stout  woman  of  medium  size,  middle  age,  and 
moderately  good  appearance. 


u8    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Hannah,  these  are  two  of  our  fellow  townsfolk,  calling. 
Excuse  me,  gentlemen,  I  didn't  get  your  names."  He  was 
enlightened  and  prattled  on:  "Oh,  Reverend  Hartigan  and 
Dr.  Carson.  Good!  Healing  for  the  body  and  healing 
for  the  soul,  and  my  healing  is  for  the  estate — happy  trin 
ity,  isn't  it?  Sit  down,  gentlemen." 

"Can  we  do  anything  for  you  in  our  line  ?"  said  the  buxom 
lady  behind  the  desk,  in  a  strong,  deep  voice;  and  now  Jim 
noticed  for  the  first  time  her  square  jaw  and  her  keen  eye 
that  brightened  as  she  spoke. 

"Not  at  present,  thank  you,"  said  Jim.  "We  are 
merely  making  a  neighbourly  call." 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Dr.  Carson,  "the  thing  that  stopped 
us  this  morning  was  your  new  signboard." 

"There!  There!  I  told  you  so;  I  told  you  it  was  good 
business,"  said  the  little  man.  "The  first  thing  in  com 
merce  is  to  have  a  good  article  and  the  next  is  to  win 
the  attention  of  the  public.  I  felt  sure  it  was  a  good 
move." 

"You've  got  the  attention  of  the  whole  town  at  one 
stroke,"  said  Carson.  "If  you  have  the  wares  to  follow 
itup- 

" Wares!  My  company  is  The  Merchants'  Mutual.  It 
is  the " 

Realizing  that  he  had  injudiciously  turned  on  a  hydrant, 
Carson  said  heartily: 

"Oh,  yes,  yes;  of  course;  I  should  have  known.  Why, 
every  one  knows  that  The  Merchants'  Mutual  is  one  of 
the  companies.  How  did  you  come  in,  by  rail  or  by  the 
trail?" 


THE  NEW  INSURANCE  AGENTS         119 

At  this  point,  Hannah  rose  and,  passing  out  of  the  door, 
gave  a  momentary  glimpse  of  a  kitchen  stove  with  pots  and 
kettles  boiling. 

John  smiled  blandly,  raised  a  flat  hand  with  an  oratori 
cal  gesture: 

"Ah,  that  is  an  important  question,  and  bears  directly 
on  the  signboard.  You  see,  we  came  from  Bootlebury, 
Massachusetts.  Hannah's  father  was  quite  a  man  in  that 
town,  and  I  worked  my  way  up  till  I  had  a  little  insurance 
office  of  my  own  and  married  Hannah.  Well"  (he  didn't 
say  "well"  and  he  didn't  say  "wall,"  but  there  isn't  any 
in-between  way  to  spell  it  aright),  "if  I'd  got  all  the  in 
surance  business  in  Bootlebury,  it  would  not  have  been 
horses  and  cushions,  but  I  didn't  get  half  of  it,  and  Hannah 
says,  'John,  I  think  we'd  getter  go  out  West,'  for,  somehow, 
she  didn't  want  to  stay  in  a  place  where  folks  said  she'd 
had  a  'come  down.' 

"We'd  had  about  ten  years  of  it,  and  I  had  just  about 
come  to  her  way  of  thinking  when  her  dad  died  and  left  her 
quite  well  fixed.  An'  Hannah  she  had  quite  an  eye  to  biz; 
she  worked  at  my  office  desk  as  much  as  she  did  at  the  cook 
stove;  an'  now  she  says  to  me,  'Here  is  where  we  get 
out.' 

"Every  one  was  talking  about  the  Black  Hills  then, 
and  that  was  why  we  headed  this  way.  Well,  we  figured 
out  that  the  railway  fares  from  St.  Louis  'round  to  Sidney 
and  north  to  the  Hills  were  so  much  higher  than  the  steam 
boat  fare  from  St.  Louis  to  Pierre,  that  we  could  save 
enough  to  buy  a  team  of  ponies  and  a  buckboard  at  Pierre, 
and  then  cross  the  Plains  with  the  settlers  going  in  and  be 


120    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

ahead  by  the  value  of  the  team,  which  would  be  needed  in 
our  country  business  anyhow." 

"Time  didn't  count?"  interrupted  Carson. 

"Not  much;  and  we  wanted  to  see  the  country.'' 

"By  George!  I  wish  I'd  been  with  ye,"  said  Jim.  "If 
only  it  had  been  a  saddle  trip  it  would  have  been  perfect." 

"Perfect!"  exclaimed  the  little  man;  "I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  us.  The  farther  we  went  up  that  endless  river 
of  mud  the  worse  it  seemed;  and  when  we  landed  at  Pierre 
it  did  seem  the  last  of  all  creation. 

"I  didn't  have  much  heart  to  buy  the  ponies,  but  Han 
nah  kept  with  me  and  never  once  seemed  to  feel  dis 
couraged.  But  when  we  crossed  the  river  with  our  outfit 
and  really  set  out  on  the  blank,  bleak  plains,  I  tell  ye,  we 
felt  heart-sick,  sore,  and  lonesome — at  least,  I  did." 

At  this  moment  Hannah  came  in  from  the  kitchen  and 
took  the  lead  in  conversation. 

"Has  John  been  giving  you  an  outline  of  our  policy  in 
the  matter  of  lapsing  premiums  and  residuary  annuities?" 

"Now,  Hannah,"  replied  John,  "I  think  that  is  a  little 
too  much  like  business  for  friendly  callers." 

"Business  is  always  in  order  in  the  office,"  was  Han 
nah's  retort. 

"I  understand,"  said  John,  "that  the  Methodists  are 
very  strong  in  Cedar  Mountain." 

"Well,  we  think  so,"  answered  Hartigan. 

"Good,"  said  Higginbotham.  "I  have  always  felt  that 
it  was  wisest  to  associate  myself  with  the  church  that  was 
spiritually  strongest.  I  am  not  in  sympathy  with  narrow 
views."  He  did  not  mention  the  fact  that  in  Bootlebury 


THE  NEW  INSURANCE  AGENTS          121 

he  had  associated  himself  with  the  Unitarians  for  the  same 
reason. 

A  loud  sizzling  in  the  next  room  caused  Hannah  to 
spring  up  heavily  and  return  to  the  kitchen. 

Jim  was  more  interested  in  their  venturesome  trip 
across  the  Plains  than  in  reasons  for  doctrinal  affiliation, 
and  he  steered  the  conversation  by  saying: 

"How  did  you  come  out  on  the  Plains  trip?" 

And  John  bubbled  on  with  a  mixture  of  fun,  pathos,  and 
frank  admiration  for  his  wife  that  appealed  strongly  to 
both  hearers.  His  gift  of  language  was  copious  without 
being  varied  or  clever,  but  his  homely  phrases  carried  the 
thought. 

"I'll  not  forget  the  morning  of  our  journey.  It  was 
raining  by  the  bucketfuls.  'Well,'  says  I,  'for  a  semi-arid 
country  this  is  going  some';  and  I  felt  so  homesick  and 
sore,  I  said,  'Hannah,  let's  not  go  any  farther';  and  Han 
nah  she  just  looked  at  me  and  said,  'See  here,  John,  I've 
come  out  so  far  to  go  to  the  Black  Hills  and  I'm  going.' 
Then,  when  the  weather  let  up  a  little,  we  started  out;  and, 
after  a  couple  of  hours  we  stuck  in  a  muddy  creek  and  were 
all  day  getting  across.  Next  day  a  couple  more  gullies  just 
as  bad,  and  the  rain  came  down  till  ever  hole  in  the  prairie 
was  a  pond;  and  I  tell  you  I  wished  I'd  bought  a  boat  in 
stead  of  the  buckboard.  And  the  mosquitoes,  oh,  my! 
Well,  we  floundered  around  about  three  days  and  got  all 
our  stuff  wet  and  half  spoiled.  Then  we  found  we'd 
missed  the  way  and  had  to  flounder  three  days  back  again. 
I  tell  you,  I  felt  pretty  much  discouraged.  Then  we  saw 
something  a-coming.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  settler  going 


122    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

back.  He  said  there  was  nothing  but  pond  holes  and  bogs, 
the  mosquitoes  were  awful,  the  boom  was  bust,  and  the 
Sioux  on  the  war  path.  I  felt  pretty  sick.  That  was  a 
finisher;  and  when  that  man  says,  'You  better  come  back 
with  us,'  I  was  for  going.  But  Hannah,  she  just  boiled  up 
and  she  says,  'John  Higginbotham,  if  you  want  to  go  back 
with  that  bunch  of  chicken-hearts,  you  can  go.  I'm  going 
to  the  Black  Hills,  if  I  have  to  go  alone.'  I  tried  to  make 
her  see  it  my  way,  but  she  got  into  the  buckboard, 
gathered  up  the  reins,  and  headed  for  the  West.  I  had  to 
get  in  behind  as  best  I  could.  We  didn't  talk  much.  We 
weren't  on  speaking  terms  that  day;  and,  at  night,  as  we 
sat  eating  supper,  it  started  to  raining  worse'n  ever,  and  I 
says,  'I  wish  we'd  gone  back.' 

"I  don't,'  she  snapped,  an'  we  never  spoke  till  the 
morning. 

"Then  she  called  me  to  breakfast.  I  tell  you,  I  never 
saw  such  a  change.  The  sun  was  up  and  the  sky  was 
clear.  In  a  little  while,  we  were  out  of  the  sloughs  and  had 
no  mosquitoes.  Then  we  got  a  bad  shake.  A  band  of 
horsemen  came  riding  right  at  us.  But  they  turned  out  to 
be  U.  S.  cavalrymen.  They  put  us  right  on  the  road,  and 
told  us  the  Indian  scare  was  just  fool  talk,  and  had  nothing 
back  of  it.  After  that,  all  went  fine  and  in  two  days  we 
were  in  the  Hills. 

"I  tell  you,  I  felt  different  as  we  stood  there  at  our  last 
campfire,  and  I  says,  'Hannah,  you're  a  wonder.  You  are 
the  best  of  the  outfit.  It  was  your  money  we  started  on. 
It  was  your  grit  kept  me  going  on  when  I  was  for  quitting, 
and  you  are  in  every  deal  I  make.  You  bet  I'll  let  the 


THE  NEW  INSURANCE  AGENTS          123 

world  know  we  are  partners.'  So  that's  why  that  sign 
board  went  up.  Not  a  bad  ad  I  reckon,  for  no  one  sees  it 
without  taking  notice;  so,  if  there's  anything  in  our  line 
you  need,  let  me  know." 

As  Carson  and  Hartigan  walked  down  the  street,  the 
doctor  said :  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of  Woman  Suffrage 
now?" 

Hartigan  shrugged  his  big  shoulders,  gave  a  comical 
glance  back  at  the  signboard,  and  replied: 

"You've  got  me!" 

It  was  indeed  a  poser  for  Jim;  a  shock  to  a  deep-set 
prejudice.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  his  mother  had 
been  a  woman  of  power,  the  unquestioned  and  able  head  in 
a  community  of  men,  he  had  unconsciously  clung  to  the  old 
idea  of  woman's  mental  inferiority.  In  college  he  had  had 
that  notion  bolstered  up  with  Scripture  texts  and  alleged 
Christian  doctrine. 

This  was  not  the  time  or  place,  he  felt,  to  discuss  the 
principle  of  it,  and  his  natural  delicacy  would,  in  any  case, 
have  kept  him  from  a  free  expression;  but  later,  in  the 
blacksmith  shop,  that  neutral  territory  of  free  speech,  they 
had  it  out.  Higginbotham  was  there  and  was  ready  and 
able  to  fight  with  Scriptural  weapons.  He  pointed  out  that 
all  the  texts  quoted,  such  as:  "Wives  be  in  subjection  to 
your  own  husbands  in  everything,  etc.,"  were  from  St. 
Paul,  who  was  believed  to  have  had  a  painful  history  in 
such  matters;  whereas,  St.  Peter,  admittedly  a  far  better 
authority,  said:  "Likewise,  ye  husbands,  dwell  with  them, 
giving  honour  to  the  wife." 

"Which  may  or  may  not  be  sound  doctrine,"  said  John, 


i24    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"but  I  know  my  wife  brought  me  out  here,  it  was  her  capi 
tal  that  set  me  up,  she  has  a  hand  in  all  business,  so  why 
not  say  so  on  the  signboard?" 

Cedar  Mountain  had  its  fill  of  fun  and  there  were  many 
venerable  jokes  about  "wearing  the  pants"  and  others 
about  a  spelling  of  "hen-pecked."  "Wasn't  it  'Hannah- 
pecked'  now?"  And  some  there  were,  even  women,  who 
condemned  the  innovation  as  godless;  but  all  of  these 
hostile  comments  died  away  when  folk  came  to  know  the 
pair  and  realize  how  justly  they  were  represented  on  the 
signboard:  "John  and  Hannah  Higginbotham,  Insurance 
Agents." 


CHAPTER  XVII 
BELLE   MAKES   A  DECISION  AND   JIM  EVADES  ONE 

IT  was  late  on  Wednesday  afternoon.  Belle  was  work 
ing  at  the  sewing  machine  in  the  back  room  of  the 
Boyd  home  when  there  was  a  familiar  knock  at  the 
front  door.  She  was  not  unprepared  for  it  and  yet  she 
dreaded  this  inevitable  interview.  Lowe  had  been  point 
edly  cold  for  some  time.  He  had  been  to  the  house  only 
once  in  the  past  month  and  he  had  made  it  quite  plain 
that  Hartigan  was  the  objectionable  figure  in  the  horizon. 
Belle  realized  that  their  relations  had  come  to  a  crisis.  She 
had  not  admitted  frankly  to  herself  what  she  would  do 
when  this  talk  took  place,  but  in  her  heart  there  was  not 
the  slightest  doubt. 

At  the  sound  of  his  step  and  knock  she  went  into  the 
parlour,  closing  the  door  into  the  rear  room  to  insure  some 
measure  of  privacy,  and  then  admitted  Jack.  His  greet 
ing  had  the  obvious  air  of  a  man  who  has  been  wronged. 
For  a  while,  with  characteristic  obliquity,  he  talked  of  his 
school  work.  Belle  sewed  meanwhile,  asking  occasional 
questions.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  this  the  con 
versation  languished.  Belle  was  determined  that  he 
should  open  the  subject  himself,  and  in  the  awkward  pause 
that  ensued  she  busied  herself  basting  up  a  lining  for  her 
frock.  At  last,  clearing  his  throat,  Lowe  began: 

125 


126    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Belle,  I've  got  something  else  to  say  to  you." 

She  looked  at  him  squarely,  the  direct  gaze  of  her  clear, 
dark  eyes  in  striking  contrast  with  his  close-lidded,  shifting 
glance.  He  went  on: 

"I  think  that  you  and  the  new  preacher  are  going  too  far 
and  it  had  better  stop  now." 

"Just  what  do  you  mean,  Jack?  What  do  you  accuse 
me  of,  exactly?" 

From  the  very  beginning  of  their  friendship  he  had  al 
ways  writhed  under  the  directness  of  her  mental  processes. 
He  was  ever  for  evasion,  indirection;  she  for  frank,  open 
dealing  in  all  things.  He  tried  to  retreat. 

"I'm  not  accusing  you  of  anything." 

"No,  but  of  something,"  she  replied  with  a  faint  smile. 
"What  is  it?" 

"There's  a  lot  of  talk  about  town — about  you  and  Hart- 
igan.  It  makes  me  a  laughing  stock.  If  we  weren't 
engaged- 
Belle  interrupted: 

"That's  just  what  I  want  to  speak  about.  I've  been 
wanting  to  have  a  frank  talk  with  you  for  some  time,  Jack, 
and  we  may  as  well  have  it  now. 

"I  have  always  liked  you  and  you  have  been  awfully 
attentive  and  helpful  to  me.  I  thought  I  was  in  love  with 
you,  but  you  know  that  when  we  had  our  talk  a  year  ago, 
I  begged  you  not  to  make  an  announcement  and  when  you 
insisted  on  telling  a  few  friends  it  was  agreed  that  I  was  to 
have  a  year  to  decide  finally.  That  was  why  I  never  wore 
your  ring."  She  drew  a  box  from  her  breast  and  held  it 
out  to  him. 


BELLE  MAKES  A  DECISION  127 

"We  have  both  made  a  mistake,  Jack.  I  made  the 
worst  one  when  I  allowed  you  to  over-persuade  me  a  year 
ago;  but  we  are  not  going  to  spoil  two  lives  by  going  on 
with  it." 

Lowe's  mind  was  not  of  particularly  fine  calibre.  For 
some  months,  whenever  he  faced  the  truth,  he  had  realized 
that  he  would  never  marry  Belle.  He  was  fond  of  her  to 
the  extent  possible  in  a  nature  such  as  his  and  he  was 
keenly  alive  to  the  financial  advantage  of  becoming  Boyd's 
son-in-law.  His  past  history  would  not  bear  close  in 
spection  and  latterly  some  of  his  youthful  vices  had  come 
to  light  and  to  life.  He  knew  only  too  well  what  a  mar 
riage  into  the  Boyd  family  would  do  for  his  fortunes, 
financially  and  socially,  and  a  dull  rage  of  several  weeks' 
nursing  burned  in  him  against  Hartigan.  As  he  took  his 
hat  to  depart  he  was  foolish  enough  to  speak  what  was  in 
his  mind.  He  uttered  a  silly  attack  on  the  Preacher.  It 
moved  Belle  and  brought  the  colour  to  her  face.  His 
bitter  comments  on  their  own  relations  had  not  called 
forth  any  response  from  her,  but  this  shaft  went  home,  as 
he  meant  it  should.  She  controlled  herself  and  merely  re 
marked: 

"I  would  not  say  that;  it  might  get  to  his  ears." 

And  so  he  departed. 


It  was  on  that  same  afternoon  that  Hartigan  had  a  new 
and,  to  him,  terrifying  experience  in  the  dangerous  world 
of  the  emotions. 

He  had  ridden  forth  to  make  a  pastoral  call  at  the 


128    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Hoomer  homestead,  out  on  the  plain  five  miles  northeast 
of  Cedar  Mountain.  When  first  he  glimpsed  the  house 
among  the  low  log  stables,  there  were  two  women  in  sight; 
when  he  came  to  the  door  and  entered,  there  was  but  one, 
the  mother.  Half  an  hour  later,  the  daughter,  Lou-Jane, 
appeared  arrayed  for  conquest.  She  was  undeniably 
handsome,  in  spite  of  a  certain  coarseness  that  made  Harti- 
gan  subtly  uneasy,  though  he  could  not  have  told  why. 
She  was  of  the  rare  vigorous  type  that  is  said  to  have  ap 
peared  in  Ireland  after  many  survivors  of  the  great  Armada 
were  washed  ashore  on  the  rugged  western  coast.  The 
mingling  of  the  Irish  and  Spanish  blood  in  her  had  resulted 
in  black  eyes,  black  eyebrows,  and  red,  or  golden-red  hair, 
combined  with  a  clear,  brilliant  Irish  complexion.  She 
was  lively,  energetic,  rather  clever,  and  tremendously 
taken  with  the  new  preacher. 

Jim  was  naturally  shy  with  women,  as  most  big  men 
seem  to  be,  and  the  masterful  Lou-Jane  smote  him  with 
utter  confusion.  She  prattled  on  about  the  tea,  about  the 
church,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jebb,  the  local  people,  the  farm, 
national  politics,  dry-farming,  horses,  cows  and  alfalfa, 
with  the  definite  purpose  of  finding  out  his  interests.  Get 
ting  the  best  response  on  the  topic  of  horses,  she  followed  it 
up. 

"You  must  come  and  see  my  pony.  He's  a  beauty.  I 
got  first  prize  on  him  as  girl  rider  at  the  fair  last  year.  I'm 
so  glad  you  like  horses." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  a  dozen  times  to  guide  him 
here  or  there;  she  took  his  hand  at  last  and  held  on,  to  his 
utter  embarrassment,  long  after  he  had  helped  her  over  a 


BELLE  MAKES  A  DECISION  129 

fence,  and  looked  disappointed  when  she  got  no  flirtatious 
response.  She  led  out  her  saddle  pony  and  laughingly 
said: 

"Here,  give  me  a  hand." 

Grasping  her  raised  foot,  he  lifted  her  with  a  sweep  to  the 
pony's  bare  back. 

"My,  you're  strong,"  was  her  flattering  comment,  and 
she  swung  the  hackima  and  loped  the  pony  round  the  field 
and  back  to  the  stable,  delighted  to  see  in  his  eye  a  frank 
glow  of  admiration  for  her  skill. 

"Will  you  lift  me  down?"  she  said  merrily;  not  that  she 
had  the  least  need  of  help,  but  she  liked  to  feel  those 
strong  arms  about  her;  and  as  he  did  so,  she  made  herself 
quite  unnecessarily  limp  and  clinging. 

Jim  did  not  usually  lack  words,  but  Lou-Jane  was  so 
voluble  that  he  was  completely  silenced.  At  the  stable, 
where  Ma  Hoomer  was  milking,  Lou-Jane  delayed  for  a 
moment  to  whisper:  "Stay  here  till  I  come  for  you." 

Then  she  tripped  on  with  Jim  at  her  heels.  As  they 
entered  the  house  Hartigan  looked  at  his  watch. 

"Now  please  don't  hurry,"  said  Lou-Jane.  "Ma'll  be 
back  in  a  few  minutes,  then  we'll  have  a  cup  of  tea.  Sit 
here;  you'll  find  it  more  comfortable,"  and  she  motioned 
to  a  sofa. 

Sitting  down  beside  him  so  that  they  were  very  close  to 
gether  and  giving  the  archest  of  smiles,  she  said: 

"I  wonder  if  I  might  ask  you  a  question." 

"Why,  sure,"  said  Jim,  just  a  little  uneasy  at  the 
warmth  of  the  tone.  He  had  instincts,  if  not  experience. 

"Were  you  ever  in  love?"  she  said  softly.     Her  arm, 


1 30   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

resting  on  the  back  of  the  sofa,  moved  accidentally  and  lay 
across  his  shoulder. 

"Why,  no — I — no — I  guess  not,"  and  Hartigan  turned 
red  and  uncomfortable. 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  be  your  friend,"  she  continued. 
"I  do  like  you  very  much,  you  know.  I  want  to  be  your 
friend  and  I  can  help  you  in  so  many  ways." 

She  leaned  toward  him,  and  Jim,  being  more  terrified 
than  he  had  ever  been,  murmured  something  inarticulate 
about  "not  being  a  lady's  man."  What  he  would  have 
done  to  effect  his  escape  he  was  never  afterward  able  to 
decide.  A  spell  of  helplessness  was  upon  him,  when  sud 
denly  a  heavy  step  was  heard  outside  and  Pa  Hoomer's 
voice  calling: 

"Ma,  Ma!     W7ho's  left  that  corral  gate  open?" 

Lou-Jane  sprang  up,  shook  her  bright  hair  from  her 
flushed  face,  and  with  a  hasty  apology  went  to  meet  her 
father.  The  Preacher  also  rose  with  inexpressible  relief, 
and,  after  a  hurried  farewell,  he  mounted  and  rode  away. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  SECOND  BYLOW  SPREE 

WOMAN  to-day  reverences  physical  prowess  just 
as  much  as  did  her  cave  forebears,  and  she 
glories  in  the  fact  that  her  man  is  a  strong, 
fighting  animal,  even  though  she  recognizes  the  value  of 
other  gifts. 

Belle  was  no  exception  to  this  human  rule;  and  her  eyes 
sparkled  as  she  listened  to  Jim's  story  of  that  unusual 
prayer  meeting  held  in  the  Bylow  cabin.  It  was  Harti- 
gan's  nature  always  to  see  the  humorous  side  of  things, 
and  his  racy  description  of  the  big  man  with  the  knife, 
down  on  his  knees  with  one  eye  on  the  door  and  the  other 
on  the  Preacher,  was  irresistible,  much  funnier  than  the 
real  thing.  It  gave  her  a  genuine  thrill,  a  woman's  pleas 
ure  in  his  splendid  physical  strength. 

"Sure,"  he  said  with  his  faint  delicious  brogue,  "it  was 
distasteful  to  have  to  annoy  them,  but  there  are  times 
when  one  has  to  do  what  he  doesn't  like." 

Then  he  proceeded  to  a  graphic  account  of  the  second 
ruffian  smelling  the  palms  of  his  hands  and  squinting 
through  his  fingers,  praying  for  grace  with  his  lips  and  for  a 
club  with  his  heart. 

"I  don't  know  what  Dr.  Jebb  will  say,"  she  remarked  at 
last,  "but  it  seems  to  me  we  must  judge  by  results  in  this 


case." 


131 


I32    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Hypocrite  that  she  was!  Had  she  not  that  very  week 
denounced  the  opportunist  doctrine  that  the  end  justifies 
the  means  ?  But  in  her  delighted  eyes  and  glowing  interest 
Jim  found  a  vast  reward. 

Dr.  Jebb  was  human  and  discreet.  He  smiled  and  said 
little  about  the  energetic  methods  of  his  assistant;  and 
when  next  Sunday  Charlie  Bylow  and  his  wife  appeared  in 
church  and  later  joined  the  group  on  the  anxious  seat,  he 
felt  that  the  matter  was  happily  ended  as  it  had  oddly 
begun. 

Exactly  four  weeks  after  the  strenuous  prayer  meeting 
word  reached  the  Preacher  in  a  rather  pointed  way  that  a 
keg  of  the  "pizen  juice"  had  arrived  on  the  evening  train 
and  was  to  be  carried  at  once  to  Pat  Bylow's.  Hartigan 
mounted  his  racer  and  sped  thitherward  at  nightfall.  A 
half  mile  from  Pat's  house  was  Charlie's,  and  at  the  door 
was  the  owner,  apparently  expecting  to  see  him — though 
this  circumstance  did  not  impress  Hartigan. 

"Can  I  do  anything  to  help?"  he  asked. 

Hartigan  shook  his  head,  laughed  lightly,  and  rode  on. 
At  Pat's  shanty  he  tied  his  horse  to  the  fence,  stepped  to 
the  door,  knocked,  and,  without  waiting,  went  in.  A 
woman's  voice  shrilled: 

"Pat,  here's  that preacher  again." 

There  were  other  voices,  male  and  female,  in  the  lean-to 
kitchen.  Pat  came  in  and  glared  at  the  intruder.  There 
was  a  rising  fury  in  his  manner,  but  no  evidence  of  drink. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  to  be  frank  with  you,"  said  Hartigan,  "I  have 
reason  for  suspecting  an  unhelpful  indulgence  is  planned 


THE  SECOND  BYLOW  SPREE  133 

here  for  to-night,  and  I  was  hoping  that  I  might  persuade 
you  to  reconsider  it  beforehand.  And  sure  we  don't  want 
to  get  agitated,  and  I  don't  want  to  use  language  that 
might  sound  like  disapproval." 

He  glanced  around.  There  was  no  sight  of  any  spree 
in  prospect.  A  glimpse  of  the  kitchen  showed  only  the 
preparations  for  an  ordinary  meal,  and  Hartigan  wondered 
whether  or  not  there  had  been  a  mistake.  Could  it  be  that 
he  was  the  butt  of  a  practical  joke? 

Pat  was  sulkily  waiting,  not  knowing  just  what  to  say, 
when  voices  were  heard  outside  and  heavy  steps;  then  the 
door  opened  and  in  came  three  men,  the  first  carrying 
under  his  arm  a  barrel-shaped  bundle.  The  presence  of  the 
Preacher  was  obviously  disconcerting  to  the  new-comers. 

"Gimme  that,"  growled  Pat.  He  seized  the  keg  and 
was  marching  off  with  it  when  Hartigan  strode  over  in 
front  of  him. 

"Hold  on,  Pat,  let  me  see  that." 

Bylow  exploded  into  a  torrent  of  abusive  profanity. 
Some  of  those  present  had  been  witnesses  of  the  previous 
affair,  and  realizing  what  the  pastoral  visit  might  mean, 
they  added  their  voices  to  the  uproar.  The  language  was 
emphatic  rather  than  concise.  The  women,  too,  gave  free 
rein  to  their  tongues,  but  their  observations  reflected  on 
their  male  escorts  more  harshly  than  they  did  on  any  one 
or  anything  else. 

However  puzzled  Hartigan  might  be  by  the  complexities 
of  the  female  mind,  the  mental  processes  of  the  unlettered 
male  were  quite  familiar  to  him  and  he  showed  his  com 
prehension  by  a  simple  challenge. 


i34    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Now,  boys,  I  don't  want  to  seem  thoughtless  or  in 
delicate,  but  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  can  lick  the  whole 
bunch  of  you  with  one  hand  tied  behind  my  back  and  the 
other  in  a  sling.  Not  that  I  have  any  intention  of  doing 
it,  and  I  apologize  to  the  ladies  for  mention  of  the  subject, 
but  it  may  help  us  to  an  understanding.  If  you  have  not 
yet  gathered  my  meaning,  I  will  put  it  simpler.  I  am  here 
to  stop  this  spree  before  it  begins." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  light  shuffling  step  outside 
and  the  door  swung  back  revealing  the  small,  familiar 
figure  of  Jack  Lowe.  A  quick,  meaning  look  and  some 
sort  of  indistinguishable  signal  passed  between  Lowe  and 
Pat,  whereupon  the  latter  at  once  placed  the  keg  on  the 
table. 

" How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hartigan  ? "  said  Lowe.  "I  think 
we  are  here  for  the  same  purpose." 

"Maybe  so,"  said  Jim  dryly,  "I  don't  know.  I'm  here 
to  remove  temptation  from  our  friends,  and  before  I  leave 
I  mean  to  spill  that  cursed  stuff  on  the  floor." 

crYou  are  right,"  said  Lowe,  "absolutely  right.  Pat, 
let  me  have  that  keg,"  and  the  schoolteacher  proceeded  to 
hammer  around  the  bung,  in  the  way  of  the  orthodox  bung- 
starter.  There  were  murmurs  and  strong  words,  but  he 
went  on  while  Hartigan  stood  guard.  The  bung  came 
loose,  he  lifted  it  out,  and  put  his  nostrils  to  the  hole. 

"That's  the  real  stuff,  just  as  it  dropped  from  the  quill. 
Smell  that,  Mr.  Hartigan.  Ain't  that  the  real  magollyoji  ? 
But  all  the  same  here  she  goes."  He  tipped  the  keg  a  little 
and  some  liquor  spilled  out. 

"See  that?     You  get  the  gold?     I  tell  you,  Mr.  Harti- 


THE  SECOND  BYLOW  SPREE  135 

gan,  that  green  rot-gut  is  poison,  but  you  can  tell  when  it's 
real  by  the  shine.  If  it  is  whiskey  it  shines  yellow  like 
corn,  if  it  is  vitriol  it  shines  green."  He  took  a  glass  and 
filled  it.  "  See  the  gold,  and  it  smells  like  corn  tossel."  He* 
put  it  to  his  lips.  "That's  what  puts  heart  in  a  man,  and 
makes  him  forgive  his  worst  enemy. 

"But  here  she  goes."  He  spilled  a  little  more  on  the 
ground.  Then: 

"You  know,  Mr.  Hartigan,  I  am  wholly  in  sympathy 
with  this  visit  of  yours,  but  I  don't  go  as  far  as  you  do. 
I've  been  talking  to  Pat  and  he's  a  good  sport.  He  realizes 
that  you  put  up  a  fine  fight  that  other  time  and  that  you 
cleaned  them  up  single-handed.  He  doesn't  want  any 
further  unpleasantness,  but  he  doesn't  see  what  right  you 
have  to  keep  him  and  his  friends  from  using  a  moderate 
amount  of  this  keg.  Is  that  your  idea,  Pat?" 

"An'  what's  the  matter  with  it,"  growled  Pat.  "Why 
shouldn't  I  have  one  or  two  drinks?  No  man  gets  drunk 
on  that." 

"There  you  are,"  said  Lowe,  turning  to  Hartigan, 
"that's  in  reason.  Why  not  have  a  drink  all  round  and 
then  talk  it  over?" 

Hartigan  was  frankly  puzzled  by  the  turn  of  affairs.  It 
seemed  to  be  an  offer  of  peace,  after  a  fashion,  but  he  could 
not  fit  Lowe  into  the  scheme  of  things.  He  tried  to  read 
what  was  going  on  behind  the  schoolteacher's  shifty  eyes, 
but  the  face  was  a  mask.  At  last  he  said : 

"If  these  men  and  women,"  and  Hartigan  let  his  eyes 
travel  over  the  faces  about  him,  "could  have  stopped  with 
one  or  two  drinks  I  wouldn't  be  here  now.  Ye  take  one  or 


136    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

two,  but  that  is  only  the  beginning.  I  know  what  drink  is; 
I've  been  through  it  all,  I  tell  ye,  and  there's  no  stopping 
if  it  gets  the  hold  on  ye." 

"Leave  it  to  the  d — d  preachers  and  there  wouldn't  be 
nothin'  left  to  do  in  life,"  said  Pat  with  a  contemptuous 
sneer. 

"Come  now,"  said  Lowe,  eager  to  prevent  hostilities. 
"You  wouldn't  object  to  liquor  if  nobody  took  too  much, 
would  you,  Mr.  Hartigan?" 

"No,"  said  Jim  with  a  grim  smile,  "but  I'm  not  to  be 
taken  in  by  the  plausibilities  of  the  Devil.  That  keg  is 
going  to  be  emptied." 

"I'm  with  you  to  the  finish  there,"  said  Lowe,  "but 
what  harm  is  there  in  filling  these  small  glasses  so";  he 
emptied  a  moderate  draught  into  a  row  of  tumblers  set  out 
upon  the  table. 

"If  Pat  is  willing  to  meet  you  halfway  and  see  this  keg 
emptied  on  the  floor,  you  wouldn't  refuse  a  small  drink 
with  him  in  his  own  house,  would  you?" 

Hartigan  hesitated.  He  could  not  convince  himself  that 
the  offer  was  genuine.  And  yet  if  he  actually  saw,  with  his 
own  eyes,  the  keg  emptied  of  its  contents,  what  trick  could 
there  be?  It  seemed  churlish  to  refuse.  Suppose  the 
offer  were  made  in  good  faith,  by  not  refusing  that  which  in 
the  male  code  is  the  sign  of  brotherhood  and  equality,  he 
might  secure  an  influence  for  good  with  the  elder  Bylow. 
And  Lowe  seemed  to  sense  the  thought,  for  he  said,  "If 
you  take  just  a  taste  with  these  men  now,  all  will  come 
to  hear  you  preach  next  Sunday.  Won't  you,  boys?"  And 
there  was  a  grunt  of  assent.  "All  right;  it's  a  bargain." 


THE  SECOND  BYLOW  SPREE  137 

Jim  was  actually  weighing  the  proposition — his  old 
craving  for  drink  was  not  by  any  means  eradicated.  The 
sight  of  the  liquor  and  the  smell  roused  an  appetite  that 
only  an  iron  will  had  subdued.  As  he  stood  uncertain,  de 
bating,  Lowe  said,  "Hold  on;  we're  a  glass  short.  Never 
mind,  I'll  find  one";  and  he  hastened  back  into  the  lean-to 
kitchen  and  returned  with  a  glass,  which  was  partly  con 
cealed  by  his  hand  till  it  was  filled  with  whiskey.  Then 
he  said,  "  If  it  was  'pizen  juice '  I  wouldn't  let  any  one  touch 
it;  but  this  is  the  simple  clear  whiskey,  as  you  can  prove 
for  yourself.  I  wish  we  could  send  this  to  the  hospital." 

He  offered  it  to  Hartigan,  who  smelled  it.  Then  Lowe 
said,  "Well,  here's  to  the  empty  keg." 

The  seductive  liquor  was  potent  in  his  nostrils,  even 
there  it  had  stimulation;  and  Hartigan,  acting  on  a  sudden 
impulse,  drained  the  glass,  as  the  others  drank  in  silence. 

There  said  Lowe,  "You  see  it  is  the  mildest  of  the  mild; 
it  wouldn't  hurt  a  child."  And  he  prattled  away  of  truth 
and  soberness,  so  that  the  potion  should  have  ample  free 
dom  for  its  work;  till  the  planned  and  subtle  mixture  should 
have  time  to  dethrone  Hartigan's  reason,  blind  his  spirit, 
and  unhinge  his  will.  The  ancient  fury  in  his  hot  young 
blood  was  all  too  ready  to  be  aroused.  Without  a  word, 
Lowe  filled  the  glass  again  and  Jim,  no  longer  his  best  self, 
but  dazed  and  reckless,  drank  with  all  the  rest;  then  soon 
threw  all  restraint  aside;  and  in  the  bacchanalian  orgy 
that  followed  fast  and  filled  the  night,  he  was  the  stable- 
yard  rowdy  once  again — loud  and  leading — but  here  let 
the  curtain  fall — draw  down  the  thickest,  blackest  veil. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
THE   DAY  OF   RECKONING 

THE  sun  was  high  next  day  when  the  door  of  Pat 
Bylow's  abode  was  opened,  and  a  man  entered. 
The  scene  that  met  his  eyes  is  better  undescribed, 
but  to  him  it  gave  no  shock.     He  came  expecting  to  see  it. 
In  his  hand  he  carried  a  tin  pail.     There  were  men  and 
women  lying  about  the  floor.     He  stepped  over  them  to 
ward  a  tall  form  in  soiled  black  clothes  and  knelt  beside  it. 
Pouring  some  water  on  a  cloth  he  laid  it  on  the  pale  fore 
head.     The  prostrate  man  opened  his  eyes  and  groaned. 

"Mr.  Hartigan,"  said  the  other.  "It's  me.  It's 
Charlie  Bylow.  Won't  you  be  after  having  a  drink  of 
water?" 

Hartigan  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  peered  out  of  his 
bloodshot  eyes,  and  drank  eagerly.  The  cup  was  three 
times  emptied. 

"You  better  come  over  to  my  shanty  and  go  to  bed," 
said  Charlie  seriously.  The  Preacher  groaned : 

"Oh!  God  what  have  I  done?  What  have  I  done?" 
He  clutched  his  throbbing  brow  with  both  hands,  as  he 
rose  and  shakily  followed  Charlie. 

"Oh!  fool  that  I  am.  Oh,  God!  Ruined.  All  is 
ruined.  I  wish  I  were  dead!"  he  exclaimed.  "Oh!  God 
forgive  me." 

138 


THE  DAY  OF  RECKONING  139 

As  they  passed  the  fence  where  Blazing  Star  had 
been  hitched,  Hartigan  stopped  and  stared.  Charlie 
said: 

"It's  all  right,  Mr.  Hartigan,  I  took  care  of  him.  He  is 
in  the  stable." 

Coming  to  Bylow's  house,  Jim  passed  the  entrance  and 
went  on  to  the  stable.  With  trembling  hands  he  opened 
the  door  and  hesitated.  He  half  expected  Blazing  Star  to 
spurn  and  disown  him.  He  was  prepared  for  any  and 
every  humiliation,  but  the  long,  joyous  neigh  that  greeted 
him  was  a  shock,  and  a  help. 

"Oh!  Blazing  Star,  if  you  only  knew,  you  would  not 
even  look  at  me." 

Charlie  took  the  Preacher  by  the  arm  and  led  him  to  the 
house. 

"Here,  Mr.  Hartigan,  take  off  your  clothes  and  go  to 
bed.  I  will  give  you  a  wet  towel  for  your  head  and,  by  and 
by,  I  will  bring  you  some  coffee." 

"Oh!  God  be  merciful,  or  strike  me  dead,"  and  Jim 
broke  down  in  an  agony  of  remorse.  "This  is  the  end. 
All  I  hoped  for  gone.  I  don't  want  to  live  now." 

"Mr.  Hartigan,  sure  now  I  know  how  you  feel.  Ain't  I 
been  through  it?  But  don't  be  after  making  plans  that 
are  rash  when  you  ain't  just  yourself.  Now  go  to  bed  and 
rest  awhile,"  and  his  kind  Irish  heart  was  wrung  as  he 
looked  on  the  utter  degradation  of  the  manly  form  before 
him,  and  the  shocking  disfigurement  of  the  onetime  hand 
some  face.  Charlie  and  his  wife  left  Hartigan  alone. 
They  shut  the  door  and  Charlie  went  back  to  his  brother's 
shanty  to  help  the  other  victims  of  the  orgy. 


I4o   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Jim  tossed  around  uneasily,  winning  snatches  of  sleep, 
groaning,  talking,  abasing  himself. 

"Oh,  Belle!"  he  moaned  aloud.  "Will  you  ever  look  at 
me  again?  Oh,  God!  And  me  a  preacher." 

Cedar  Mountain  was  not  so  big  but  that  every  one  knew 
everybody  else's  business;  and  Mary  Bylow  understood 
when  she  heard  the  name  "Belle."  But  she  didn't  know 
just  what  to  do.  After  an  hour  she  again  heard  him. 

"Oh!     Belle,  Belle,  what  will  you  say?" 

Taking  the  hot  coffee  from  the  stove,  Mrs.  Bylow 
knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in. 

"Take  this,  it  will  make  you  feel  better." 

She  hoped  he  would  talk,  but  he  didn't.  He  only 
thanked  her  feebly.  Then  Charlie  came  back  from  his 
brother's  shanty.  He  had  remembered  that,  it  being 
Sunday,  the  Preacher  would  be  missed  and  he  saddled  his 
horse  to  set  out  for  Cedar  Mountain.  As  he  left,  his  wife 
came  out  and  said: 

"While  you  are  there,  drop  a  hint  to  Belle  Boyd,"  and 
Charlie  nodded. 

Arriving  at  Dr.  Jebb's,  Charlie  explained  the  case  to  the 
pastor  without  detail: 

"Sure,  Mr.  Hartigan  had  a  little  accident  at  our  corner 
last  night  and  sprained  his  ankle.  My  wife  is  nursing  him, 
but  he  won't  be  able  to  preach  to-day." 

"Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!  Well,  it  is  all  right,  I  will  take 
both  services,"  and  the  blind  and  gentle  old  man  turned 
to  his  books. 

Then  Bylow  rode  to  the  Boyd  home.  Here,  he  realized, 
was  a  much  more  difficult  job.  But  he  was  determined  to 


THE  DAY  OF  RECKONING  141 

go  into  no  details.  It  was  Belle  who  answered  his  knock. 
Charlie  began: 

"My  wife  told  me  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Hartigan  got  hurt 
last  night.  He  is  at  our  house.  He  won't  be  in  town 
to-day." 

"What?     Did  he  interfere  in  a  spree?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  he  shot?" 

"No." 

"Is  he  wounded?" 

"No,  not  exactly." 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"Only  a  general  shakeup,  he  had  a  bad  fall,"  and  Bylow 
moved  uneasily. 

It  was  a  simple  matter  to  bluff  a  simple  old  clergyman, 
but  it  was  another  thing  altogether  to  mislead  an  alert 
young  woman.  Belle  knew  there  was  something  wrong — 
something  more  and  different  from  what  she  had  been  told. 

"Is  the  doctor  with  him?" 

"No." 

"I  will  get  the  doctor  and  come  at  once." 

"No,  I  wouldn't;  at  least,  not  till  morning." 

Bylow's  manner  roused  Belle  all  the  more  to  prompt 
action.  Seeing  that  all  his  explanations  made  things  worse, 
Charlie  abruptly  left,  mounted  his  broncho,  and  went 
"rockity  rockity"  as  the  pony's  heels  went  "puff,  puff" 
on  the  dusty  trail  around  the  hill  and  away. 

The  doctor  was  not  to  be  found  that  morning  and  Belle 
found  it  hard  to  await  his  return.  In  the  meantime,  some 
strange  rumour  must  have  reached  the  town  for  in  Sunday- 


142    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

school  Belle  met  Eliza  Lowe,  the  recently  arrived  sister  of 
the  schoolteacher.  The  look  on  her  face,  the  gleam  in  her 
eye,  were  unmistakable.  She  had  not  yet  learned  of  her 
brother's  part  in  the  affair.  Belle  found  herself  avoiding 
the  sister's  gaze. 

As  the  hours  passed  the  conviction  deepened  in  Belle 
that  there  was  something  seriously  wrong;  she  could  feel  it 
in  the  air.  It  was  something  more  than  an  accident  to 
Hartigan.  There  was  the  indefinable  shadow  of  shame 
about  it.  The  oppression  became  unbearable  and  on  leav 
ing  Sunday-school,  she  went  down  to  the  doctor's  house. 
He  had  just  got  in  from  a  case  near  Fort  Ryan  and  was 
eating  a  belated  meal.  Belle  went  straight  to  the  point: 

"Dr.  Carson,  I  want  you  to  take  me  at  once  to  Bylow's 
Corner." 

"Why?" 

"There's  something  wrong.  Mr.  Hartigan  is  in  serious 
trouble.  I  don't  believe  that  he  has  fallen  from  his  horse 
as  they  say.  I  want  to  know  the  truth." 

Her  face  was  pale,  her  mouth  was  set.  The  doctor  looked 
keenly  at  her  a  moment  and  then,  comprehending,  said: 

"All  right,  I  will";  and  in  ten  minutes  the  mudstained 
buckboard  with  a  fresh  horse  in  it  was  speeding  over  the 
foot  of  Cedar  Mountain  on  the  trail  to  Bylow's. 


While  Belle  was  fretting  under  the  delay  and  mar 
shalling  her  forces  for  the  trip  to  the  Corner,  Hartigan  lay 
in  the  quiet  Bylow  cabin  and  under  the  influence  of  cold 
water,  coffee,  and  a  more  collected  mind,  gradually  acquired 


THE  DAY  OF  RECKONING  143 

some  degree  of  composure.  He  had  risen  and  dressed  and 
was  sadly  musing  on  the  wreck  of  all  his  life  which  that  one 
fiery  sip  had  brought  about,  when  the  thought  of  Blazing 
Star  came  to  him.  He  went  eagerly  to  the  stable  and  as  he 
rubbed  the  animal  down  he  found  help  in  the  physical  action. 
He  hammered  the  currycomb  on  a  log  to  clean  it  before 
putting  it  in  the  box,  then  gazing  to  the  eastward  along  the 
trail  that  climbed  around  the  shoulder  of  Cedar  Mountain, 
he  saw  a  buckboard  approaching.  In  the  Black  Hills  one 
identifies  his  visitor  by  his  horse,  and  Jim  recognized  the 
Carson  outfit.  Sitting  beside  the  doctor  was  a  woman  in  a 
light-coloured  dress  with  a  red  parasol  raised  above  her.  It 
smote  him  as  no  man's  fist  had  ever  done.  He  turned  into 
the  stable,  put  saddle  and  bridle  on  Blazing  Star,  swung 
to  the  seat,  gave  rein  to  the  willing  beast  and,  heading 
away  from  Cedar  Mountain  on  the  Deadwood  Trail,  went 
bounding,  riding,  stricken,  too  hard  hit  and  shamed  to 
meet  the  eyes  of  the  woman  whose  praise  he  had  come  to 
value  as  the  best  approval  he  might  hope  to  win. 

The  doctor's  buckboard  came  to  the  door,  tied  up,  and 
the  two  occupants  went  in. 

"Where  is  your  patient,  Mrs.  Bylow?" 

The  woman  pointed  to  the  bedroom  door,  went  to  it, 
knocked,  opened  it,  and  finding  the  room  empty  said : 

"He  was  here  a  few  minutes  ago.  I  expect  he  is  out  to 
the  stable." 

Belle  sat  down.  The  nervous  strain  of  the  past  hours 
was  telling  on  her.  She  felt  unstrung  and  vaguely  de 
pressed. 

The  doctor  and  Mary  Bylow  went  to  the  stable.     The 


144    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

empty  stall,  with  no  sign  of  saddle,  bridle,  or  preacher,  were 
enough.  They  returned  to  the  house. 

In  answer  to  Belle's  look  the  doctor  made  a  gesture,  and 
said  simply: 

"Gone." 

"Where?" 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  and  pointed  northward. 

"Please  tell  me  all  about  it,  Mrs.  Bylow,"  said 
Belle. 

"There  is  times  to  tell  lies,"  said  Mary  naively,  "but 
this  ain't.  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  truth,"  and  she  did  in  a 
quivering  voice,  while  tears  ran  from  her  eyes. 

"Trapped,  trapped,"  was  Belle's  only  comment. 
"Where  do  you  suppose  he  went?" 

"Not  to  Cedar  Mountain,"  said  Carson,  "that's  sure. 
No  one  passed  us." 

Charlie  Bylow,  coming  into  the  cabin,  heard  the  doc 
tor's  last  comment. 

"He  was  heading  due  north  and  going  hard  when  last  we 
saw  him,"  was  his  contribution. 

"Dr.  Carson,  he's  headed  for  Deadwood,  and  I'm  going 
after  him  to  bring  him  back."  Belle  stood  up  with  sudden 
decision.  The  need  for  action  once  more  present,  all  her 
strength  responded. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  think  you  should 
go.  You  know  what  all  the  town  would  say." 

"You  are  going  with  me,"  was  the  answer, 

"When?" 

"Right  now." 

"Better  go  home  first." 


THE  DAY  OF  RECKONING  145 

"And  have  a  fight  with  my  folks?  No,  no!  We  go 
now.  I  have  an  aunt  in  Deadwood,  you  know!" 

"It's  forty-five  miles,  and  we  can't  get  there  till  mid 
night,  even  if  my  horse  holds  out." 

"We  may  overtake  him  before  that,"  said  Belle,  though 
she  knew  quite  well  they  would  not,  for  Hartigan  would 
ride  like  a  madman. 

It  had  not  been  difficult  to  enlist  Carson's  sympathies. 
A  sincere  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  the  boyish 
preacher  and  himself  and  their  total  dissimilarity  had 
made  them  congenial.  Carson  was  amused  in  his  quiet 
way  to  note  how  exactly  Belle  was  moving  as  he  thought 
best  and  surest,  so  now  he  merely  added: 

"Deadwood  it  is,"  and  with  a  farewell  word  to  the  By- 
lows  they  were  off. 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE   MEMORABLE   TRIP  TO   DEADWOOD 

IT  WAS  a  long,  hard  journey,  and  it  was  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning  before  they  reached  Deadwood.  Every 
public  house  that  could  get  a  license  to  sell  liquor  an 
nounced  itself  as  a  "hotel."  Those  few  that  could  not, 
made  a  virtue  of  their  failure  and  flaunted  a  sign,  "Tem 
perance  House."  The  "wet  houses"  were  on  the  main 
gulch,  the  "dry"  ones  in  off  nooks,  or  perched  on  breezy 
hills.  To  the  best  of  these  latter  the  doctor  drove,  had  the 
luck  to  find  the  owner  still  on  duty,  and  secured  a  room  for 
himself.  Then  they  drove  to  the  home  of  Belle's  aunt, 
Mrs.  Collins.  One  has  to  take  a  hotel  on  its  rules;  but  a 
relative  may  be  called  up  and  inconvenienced  at  any 
time. 

"Well,  Auntie,  it's  Belle  Boyd.  I  want  you  to  take 
care  of  me  till  the  morning.  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it 
later,"  this  to  the  inquiring  head  that  emerged  from  an 
upper  window.  So  Belle  was  left  and  the  doctor  went  to 
his  hotel. 

Up  very  early  next  morning,  Belle  went  at  once  to  the 
stable  of  the  Temperance  House.  Yes,  there  he  was, 
Blazing  Star,  in  all  his  beauty.  Then  she  went  into  the 
hotel  and  mounted  guard  in  the  little  parlour.  Dr.  Carson 
came  down  and  was  sent  to  sit  out  of  doors.  At  length  the 

146 


MEMORABLE  TRIP  TO  DEADWOOD      147 

sound  of  the  foot  she  awaited  came  from  the  stairs  and  she 
heard  the  landlady  say: 

"There's  some  one  in  the  parlour  waiting  for  you."  For 
a  moment  there  was  no  sound;  then  the  footsteps  ap 
proached. 

Belle  was  at  the  window  looking  out,  partly  hidden  by 
the  cheap  lace  curtains.  As  the  Preacher  entered,  she 
turned  fully  toward  him.  Her  back  was  to  the  light  and 
he  did  not  immediately  perceive  her.  Then  with  a  gasp : 

"Belle!"  and,  sinking  into  a  chair,  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

She  went  to  him,  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  stood 
there  in  silence.  The  great  broad  shoulders  began  to 
shake  under  that  soft  touch.  There  was  no  sound  uttered 
for  long,  then,  brokenly,  his  one  refrain:  "Oh,  Belle!" 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  and  took  his  hand — the  first 
time  she  had  ever  done  so — and  waited  in  silence. 

He  wanted  to  tell  her  all,  but  found  no  words. 

She  said,  "Never  mind  that  now.  Tell  me  what  you  are 
here  for." 

He  tried  again  but  in  a  wild,  incoherent  way.  The  sum 
of  it  all  was  that  he  was  "ruined,  degraded,  and  lost.  He 
would  go  down  to  the  Big  Cheyenne  and  get  a  job  as  a  cow- 
boy." 

"Now  listen,  Jim,"  she  said.  "You  have  made  a  bad 
mistake;  but  a  man  may  make  one  big,  bad  mistake  and 
still  be  all  right.  It  is  the  man  that  goes  on  making  a  little 
mistake  every  day  that  is  hopeless." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  she  continued :  "What 
is  it  you  of  all  people  admire  most  in  a  man?  Is  it  not 


148    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

courage  to  see  things  through,  no  matter  how  black  they 
look?" 

In  his  then  frame  of  mind  Hartigan  had  expected  drunk 
enness  to  be  singled  out  as  the  worst  of  all  sins;  there  was  a 
ray  of  comfort  in  this  other  thought;  he  nodded  and 
grunted  an  inarticulate  assent. 

"Jim,  I  don't  doubt  your  courage.  I  know  you  too  well, 
believe  in  you  too  much.  I  want  you  to  drop  the  idea  of 
the  Big  Cheyenne.  Turn  right  around  and  go  back  to 
Cedar  Mountain  at  once;  and  the  sooner  you  get  there  the 
easier  it  will  be." 

He  shook  his  head,  and  sat  as  before,  his  face  buried  in 
his  hands.  "I — cannot — do — it."  He  forced  out  the 
words. 

"Jim  Hartigan  cannot — isn't  brave  enough  ?"  she  asked, 
her  voice  a  little  tremulous  with  sudden  emotion. 

In  all  his  life,  he  had  never  been  charged  with  cowardice. 
It  stung.  Of  all  things  he  most  despised  cowardice,  and 
here  it  was,  brought  squarely  home  to  him.  He  writhed 
under  the  thought.  There  was  a  dead  silence  in  the  little 
parlour. 

Then  Belle  spoke:  "Is  this  the  only  answer  I  am  to 
have— after  coming  so  far?"  she  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

Oh,  blind,  stupid,  cowardly  fool  that  he  was!  He  had 
not  thought  of  that.  How  much  was  she  braving  for  him ! 
He  was  rated  a  man  of  courage  among  his  friends,  yet  now 
he  was  yielding  to  miserable  cowardice. 

Then  his  impulsive  nature  responded.  He  blurted  out: 
"Belle,  I  will  do  anything  for  you;  I  will  do  anything  you 
tell  me  to."  It  was  an  unconditional  surrender,  and  the 


MEMORABLE  TRIP  TO  DEADWOOD       149 

wise  victor  gave  the  honours  of  war  to  the  vanquished  by 
changing  the  subject. 

"Then  come  to  breakfast,"  she  said  in  a  lighter  tone 
and  led  him  to  Aunt  Collins's  house,  whither  the  doctor 
had  already  gone. 

A  day's  rest,  a  forty-mile  ride  in  the  wind,  a  change  of 
scene,  good  friends,  a  buoyant  disposition,  a  flush  of  youth, 
and  Belle,  absorbed  in  all  he  did  and  said — who  would  not 
respond  to  such  a  concentration  of  uplifting  forces  ? 

Hartigan's  exuberance  returned.  His  colour  was  back 
in  his  cheeks.  His  eyes  sparkled  and  his  wit  sparkled,  too. 
He  won  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Collins.  She  said  he  was  "the 
beautifullest  man  she  had  ever  seen."  Even  John  Collins, 
a  plough-  and  wagon-dealer  by  trade,  was  impressed  with 
the  mental  gifts  and  manly  appearanceof  they  oung  preacher, 
and  Belle  knew  that  the  thing  she  had  set  out  for  was  won. 

Insteadof  discussing  plans  she  announced  them  as  if  they 
were  settled.  The  doctor  wished  to  stay  a  day  or  two  in 
Deadwood,  but  that  did  not  suit  Belle  at  all.  She  was 
quite  clear  about  it.  Her  aunt  must  drive  back  with  her 
at  once.  The  doctor  and  the  Preacher  must  come,  too,  but 
arrive  a  little  later  in  Cedar  Mountain.  So  they  boarded 
their  buckboards,  waved  bood-bye,  and  set  their  faces  to 
the  south. 

The  sun  shone  as  it  knows  how  in  Dakota.  The  great 
pine-clad  hills  were  purple  in  the  lovely  morning  haze  as 
the  little  party  left  Deadwood  that  day  on  the  buffalo 
trail  for  Cedar  Mountain.  The  doctor  drove  first  in  his 
buckboard,  not  without  misgivings,  for  the  good  horse  had 
had  little  rest  since  that  forty-five  mile  drive.  Next  came 


1 50    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

the  horseman  on  the  gold-red  horse  that  men  turnedto  look 
after.  Last,  the  prairie  buckboard  of  the  house  of  Collins 
with  Aunt  Anna  driving  and  Belle  at  her  side. 

The  prairie  larks  sang  from  low  perches  or  soared  a  little 
way  in  the  air  to  tell  the  world  how  glad  they  were  on  that 
bright  summer  morning.  The  splendour  of  the  hills  was 
on  all  things,  and  Jim  on  Blazing  Star  was  filled  with  the 
glad  tonic.  For  five  miles  they  ambled  along,  and  when 
the  doctor  stopped  at  a  watering  place — he  had  been  told 
to  stop  there — the  others  caught  up  with  him.  Hereupon 
there  was  a  readjustment,  and  their  next  going  found  the 
Collins  rig  leading  with  Blazing  Star  behind,  and  Belle 
with  Hartigan  in  the  second  buckboard. 

That  was  a  drive  of  much  consequence  to  two  of  the 
party.  In  that  second  buckboard  the  fates  laid  plans, 
spun  yarns,  and  rearranged  many  things.  Hartigan 
opened  his  heart  and  life.  He  told  of  his  mother,  of  his 
happy  childhood;  of  his  losses;  of  his  flat,  stale,  unprofit 
able  boyhood;  of  Bill  Kenna  and  his  "word  as  a  man";  of 
his  own  vow  of  abstinence,  kept  unbroken  till  he  was  eigh 
teen.  He  gave  it  all  with  the  joyous  side  alone  in  view, 
and  when  a  pathetic  incident  intruded,  the  pathos  was  in 
the  things,  not  in  the  words  of  the  narrator.  The  man  had 
a  power  of  expression  that  would  have  made  a  great 
journalist.  His  talk  was  one  continuous  entertainment, 
and  lasted  unbroken  to  the  half-way  house,  where  they 
were  to  stay  an  hour  for  rest  and  food. 

How  sweet  it  is  to  tell  one's  history  to  a  woman  who 
takes  in  every  word  as  of  large  importance !  HOWT  pleasant 
it  is  to  confess  to  a  keen  and  sympathetic  hearer.  The 


MEMORABLE  TRIP  TO  DEADWOOD       151 

twenty-five  miles  passed  far  too  soon.  It  was  short,  but 
long  enough  for  large  foundations  to  be  laid. 

Belle  was  only  twenty-two,  but  hers  was  a  wise  head. 
Hartigan  had  spoken  freely  about  himself  and  thus  had 
conferred  in  some  large  sort  a  right  to  advise.  She  had  de 
liberately  constructed  a  new  mood  for  his  thoughts,  so  that 
the  horrors  of  the  Bylow  cabin  were  forgotten.  The 
questions  now  for  him  and  for  her  were,  how  to  set  him 
right  with  the  church,  and  how  begin  all  over  again.  Harti- 
gan's  idea  was  to  go  openly  before  the  whole  congregation 
with  a  humble  apology,  and  publicly  promise  to  abstain 
from  drink  forever.  Belle  vetoed  this  emphatically. 

"Never  rub  your  head  in  the  mud,"  she  said.  "You 
make  your  peace  with  God  first,  then  with  Dr.  Jebb,  and 
the  deacons.  Pay  no  attention  to  any  one  else.  There 
will  be  some  talk  for  a  while,  but  it  will  die  away. 

"You  don't  know  the  Black  Hills  as  I  do,  Jim.  People 
out  here  don't  take  things  quite  so  seriously  as  eastern 
folk.  Many  a  western  preacher  carries  a  flask  of  brandy  as 
snakebite  antidote  or  chill  cure.  Not  long  ago  I  heard  of 
a  minister  up  north  who  was  held  for  horse-stealing.  Yes, 
more  than  once.  And  how  he  explained  it,  I  don't  know; 
but  he  is  preaching  yet.  I  don't  mean  to  make  light  of 
these  things,  Jim,  but  I  want  to  keep  you  from  a  kind  of 
reparation  which  will  be  more  of  a  shock  to  the  people  than 
what  they  now  know.  We  must  have  some  sense  of  pro 
portion.  Since  there  was  no  public  scandal,  you  will  find 
that  the  whole  matter  will  be  overlooked." 

Belle  was  right;  he  knew  she  was;  and  later  events 
proved  it. 


152    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Most  men  propose  when  they  find  "the  one  woman"; 
but  some  don't.  Many  marriages  take  place  without  any 
formal  proposal.  The  man  and  the  woman  come  together 
and  discover  such  sympathy,  such  need  of  each  other,  that 
they  assume  much  that  remains  unspoken.  Nothing  was 
said  of  love  or  marriage  on  that  journey  from  Deadwood, 
but  James  Hartigan  and  Belle  Boyd  were  conscious  of  a 
bond  that  happily  and  finally  became  complete.  Thence 
forth  he  made  no  move  without  consulting  her;  thence 
forth  she  had  no  plans  in  which  he  was  not  more  than  half. 

They  were  ten  miles  from  Cedar  Mountain  when  the 
last  change  was  made.  Those  who  noted  their  arrival 
some  while  later  saw  Belle  ride  up  the  Main  Street  with  her 
aunt,  and  tie  up  at  her  father's  door.  Twenty  minutes 
later  Hartigan  rode  beside  the  doctor's  rig  to  his  home,  at 
the  other  side  of  the  town. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  ORDEAL 

JIM  went  at  once  to  Dr.  Jebb's  to  report.  Mrs.  Jebb 
opened  the  door,  greeted  him  with  a  hearty  hand 
shake,  and  was  more  than  usually  cordial.  Dr. 
Jebb  was  kind,  but  embarrassed.  He  offered  Jim  a  chair 
and  began  nervously: 

"There  was  a  rumour — there — that  is — we  missed  you 
on  Sunday." 

Jim,  with  characteristic  directness,  said:  "Doctor,  I'll 
tell  you  all  about  it."  Just  then  there  was  a  timid  knock 
and  Mrs.  Jebb  reappeared.  "May  I  be  present,  Jim?"  she 
said.  "I  understand  that  you  have , something  to  talk 
about,  and  you  know,  you  were  always  my  boy." 

Dr.  Jebb  looked  puzzled.  Jim  said:  "If  I  can't  trust 
you,  who  is  there  left  to  trust  ? "  And  then  told  the  story 
of  his  fall.  He  painted  himself  not  quite  so  black  as  he 
might  have  done  the  day  before,  but  black  enough. 

Dr.  Jebb  looked  terribly  worried  and  distressed.  "I 
don't  know  what  to  say,"  he  kept  repeating.  "All  my 
heart  is  with  you,  but  my  judgment  condemns  you.  I 
don't  know  what  to  say." 

Then  Mrs.  Jebb  spoke.  "Now,  Josiah,  you  know  per 
fectly  well  that  your  affections  always  were  a  safer  guide 
than  your  judgment.  There  was  no  bad  intention  on  the 

153 


154    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

part  of  the  sinner — for  we  are  all  sinners — this  was  just  an 
unfortunate  accident,  and  Jim  shows  in  every  possible  way 
his  regret.  There  has  been  no  public  scandal,  and  so  I 
think  you  had  better  drop  the  whole  thing  and  forget  it.  I 
know  enough  about  Jim  to  know  that  he  has  made  out  the 
worst  possible  case  against  himself." 

"That  may  be,"  said  Dr.  Jebb,  "but  I  fear  we  must 
bring  the  matter  up  before  the  deacons,  at  least." 

"As  long  as  you  don't  make  it  public  by  bringing  it  be 
fore  the  church,"  said  Mrs.  Jebb,  "all  right." 

Thus  it  was  that  Dr.  Jebb  sent  out  a  notice,  to  such  ot 
the  deacons  as  he  could  not  see  personally,  that  a  meeting 
was  to  be  held  at  his  house  that  night. 

In  the  same  afternoon  another  interview  took  place  in 
Cedar  Mountain.  School-trustee  Higginbotham  was  sit 
ting  in  his  office  when  the  schoolteacher  came  up  the 
boardwalk  and  into  the  insurance  office. 

"Hello,  Jack." 

"Hello,  John";  and  the  visitor  sat  down.  Higgin 
botham  glanced  at  him  and  noticed  that  his  face  was  drawn 
and  his  eyes  "like  holes  burnt  in  a  blanket."  His  fingers 
trembled  as  he  rolled  a  cigarette. 

"Say,  John,"  Lowe  began  nervously,  "in  case  any  ru 
mour  gets  around  that  the  Preacher  and  I  were  a  little 
reckless  at  Bylow's,  you  can  contradict  it.  At  least  there's 
nothing  in  it  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  think  the 
Preacher  must  have  taken  some  before  I  arrived.  He 
showed  the  effects,  but  not  much/ 

"Hm,"  said  Higginbotham.     "You  got  there  late?" 

"Yes,  you  see  we — that  is,  both  of  us — went  there  to 


THE  ORDEAL  155 

stop  that  spree — and  we  did,  in  a  way,  but  things  got  a 
little  mixed." 

"How  was  that?" 

"Well,  I  went  there  to  help  him  and  I  did  what  I  could 
for  him,  but  they  had  had  some  already.  We  spilled  the 
keg  on  the  floor  and  the  fumes  were  pretty  strong  and 
affected  him  a  little.  Didn't  amount  to  much.  I  did 
what  I  could.  It  was  strong  enough  to  affect  me — un 
pleasantly,  too.  I  thought  I'd  just  let  you  know  in  case 
there  was  anything  said  about  it." 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  Hannah  appeared.  Apparently, 
she  had  overheard  the  conversation.  "Well,  did  you 
catch  on?" 

"Partly;  how  did  it  strike  you?" 

"I  think  he  is  trying  to  save  his  own  skin  by  dragging  in 
the  Preacher." 

"I  think  so,  too;  but  all  the  same,  I  won't  use  his  story  if 
it  can  be  dispensed  with.  The  less  we  dig  into  this  thing 
the  better." 

A  little  later  the  notice  came  from  Dr.  Jebb,  inviting 
Deacon  Higginbotham  to  a  meeting  at  his  house  that  even 
ing,  for  important  business.  As  he  walked  across  the 
village  Charlie  Bylow  stepped  out  from  a  dark  corner  near 
Dr.  Jebb's  house. 

"  Say,  Deacon,"  he  began,  "  I've  been  waiting  to  see  you. 
I  know  what  is  on  to-night.  I  want  you  to  know  it  was  a 
put-up  job.  It  was  the  schoolteacher  worked  it.  The 
stuff  was  doped  all  right.  The  Preacher  went  there  to 
stop  it  as  he  did  the  other  time,  but  they  fooled  him  and 
trapped  him." 


156    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Yes,  I  thought  so,"  said  the  little  deacon,  "and  how 
was  it  worked?" 

"Well,  I  don't  just  exactly  know.  I  haven't  been  on 
good  terms  with  my  brother  since  I  joined  the  church,  so  I 
don't  go  to  his  house  any  more;  but  I  heard  some  talk 
about  its  being  the  *  slickest  thing  ever.'  I  know  the 
Preacher  went  there  to  stop  it  and  that  they  trapped  him 
and  that  it  was  Jack  Lowe  did  it." 

"Will  you  go  before  the  deacons  of  the  church  and  tell 
them  that — if  it  is  necessary?" 

"No,"  replied  Bylow  uneasily;  "at  least  I  don't  want  to 
go  before  any  meeting.  I  only  know  that's  right;  that's 
the  way  it  happened;  and  I  don't  want  any  one  to  blame 
Mr.  Hartigan."  Here  Charlie  abruptly  ended  and  went 
away. 

Higginbotham  turned  back  to  his  house.  Hannah 
listened  with  the  keenest  attention  and  then  said:  "It's 
easy  to  straighten  it  all  out.  I'll  see  Belle  and  tell  her  to 
go  to  Jim  at  once  and  keep  him  from  talking.  You  know 
what  he  is  when  he  gets  going.  He'll  talk  too  much  and 
spoil  it  all."  Thus  these  two  loyal  friends  laid  plans  to 
screen  him. 

At  Jebb's  house,  Higginbotham  took  the  earliest  occa 
sion  to  warn  Jim. 

"Now  don't  talk.  Simply  answer  one  or  two  questions 
when  asked  and  as  briefly  as  possible.  'Yes'  or  'No'  is 
enough.  You  know  we've  got  to  satisfy  the  old  Deacon 
Blight  crowd  somehow."  And  Jim  promised  to  obey 

Dr.  Jebb  called  the  meeting  to  order  and,  at  once,  Hig 
ginbotham  arose  and  said:  "Mr.  Chairman,  I  think  it 


THE  ORDEAL  157 

would  be  better  for  Mr.  Hartigan  to  retire  to  another 
room."  So  Jim  went  out. 

Dr.  Jebb  then  gave  a  brief  and  rather  halting  account  of 
a  "certain  rumour  reflecting  on  the  sobriety  of  his  assist 
ant."  Before  he  had  more  than  outlined  the  facts,  Higgin- 
botham  jumped  up: 

"Dr.  Jebb,  you  have  alluded  to  a  rumour.  I  call  it  a 
shameful  fabrication,  with  no  basis  in  fact.  I  have  made  a 
thorough  investigation  and  am  prepared,  with  two  reliable 
witnesses,  to  prove  that  Mr.  Hartigan  went  to  the  Bylow 
cabin  to  prevent  a  disgraceful  spree,  as  he  did  once  before. 
They  had  prepared  by  getting  a  keg  of  whiskey.  This 
liquid  sin,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  Mr.  Hartigan  spilled  on  the 
floor;  unfortunately,  it  was  in  a  small,  close  cabin  and  the 
fumes  affected  his  head  so  that  he  was  temporarily  ill. 
These  are  the  facts;  and  to  prove  them  I  have  two  reliable 
witnesses.  Call  in  Charlie  Bylow  and  John  Lowe."  He 
looked  with  a  pretense  of  expectation  toward  the  door; 
getting  no  response  he  said:  "Humph,  not  arrived  yet. 
Well,  we  won't  wait.  In  the  meantime,  I  must  say  that 
to  my  mind  altogether  too  much  has  been  made  of  this 
accident  and  I  am  satisfied  to  dismiss  the  subject  if  the 
rest  of  the  deacons  consent." 

"No,  I  don't  consent;  I  don't  think  we  should,"  said 
Deacon  Blight.  "We  can't  afford  to  have  a  scandal  about 
our  spiritual  leader.  Let's  prove  it  or  disprove  it  right 


now." 


And,  acting  on  the  majority  vote,  Dr.  Jebb  called  Jim 
Hartigan  to  appear.  Dr.  Jebb  was  supposed  to  be  chair 
man,  but  Higginbotham  was  irrepressible. 


158    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"I  want  to  ask  one  or  two  questions,"  he  called  out; 
and,  without  waiting  for  permission,  he  began :  " Now,  Mr. 
Hartigan,  I  understand  that  you  went  to  the  Bylow  Cor 
ner  last  Saturday  night  to  prevent  a  whiskey  spree,  as  we 
know  you  have  done  before;  that  in  some  way  the  fumes  of 
the  liquor  entered  your  head  and  so  overpowered  you  that 
you  were  ill  afterward;  and  that  it  was  a  painful  surprise  to 
you,  as  one  well  known  to  be  a  teetotaller.  Isn't  that  so  ? " 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Jim,  in  some  perplexity;  "but  it  was 
this  way " 

"Never  mind  the  way  of  it,"  said  Higginbotham  em 
phatically.  Then,  turning  to  the  others :  "  I  don't  see  that 
we  need  go  any  further." 

"Hold  on,  hold  on,"  said  Deacon  Blight;  "I'd  like  to  ask 
one  or  two  questions.  You  admit  being  under  the  in 
fluence  of  liquor  at  Bylow's?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply. 

"Were  you  ever  under  the  influence  of  liquor  before?" 

"I  was." 

"Once,  or  more  than  once?" 

"More  than  once,"  said  Jim.  He  would  have  said 
"many  times"  but  for  a  scowl  from  Higginbotham. 

"Oh,  ho!"  said  the  deacon.     "When  was  that?" 

"Before  I  was  converted." 

"Never  since?" 

"No;  except  last  Saturday." 

Here  Dr.  Jebb  interrupted.  "It  seems  to  me  that  we 
need  not  follow  the  subject  any  further  than  to  inquire  into 
the  mental  attitude  of  the  brother  who  fell  into  the  snare. 
I  know  it  is  one  of  absolute  contrition  now,  especially  as  the 


THE  ORDEAL  159 

affair  was  of  the  nature  of  an  accident  during  the  discharge 
of  his  duty.  It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  that  we  should 
accept  his  expression  of  penitence  coupled  with  apromise  to 
abstain  so  long  as  he  is  here  with  us." 

Jim  volunteered  to  abstain  for  all  time,  but  Higgin- 
botham's  moderate  counsels  prevailed. 

Deacon  Blight  thought  that  the  transgressor  should  be 
suspended  from  office  pending  a  fuller  investigation. 
Deacon  Higginbotham  thought  that  it  had  already  been 
more  than  fully  investigated.  Deacon  Whaup  had  never 
heard  of  the  affair  until  this  evening,  but  thought  that  Mr. 
Hartigan  ought  to  retire  during  further  discussion. 

As  soon  as  Jim  was  outside,  Higginbotham,  fully  de 
termined  to  stop  all  further  talk,  said:  "Dr.  Jebb,  I  move 
we  accept  the  promise  Mr.  Hartigan  has  given  and  table 
"he  whole  matter.  It  is  absurd  to  follow  it  further  in  the 
light  of  what  we  know — making  a  big  mountain  of  a  very 
small  mole-hill/' 

Blight,  however,  didn't  think  so.  He  argued  for  delay 
and  for  stern  measures.  Dr.  Jebb  put  the  motion  and  it 
was  carried  with  but  one  dissenting  vote;  and  so  the  matter 
was  officially  closed.  As  they  dispersed,  Dr.  Jebb  re 
minded  them  that  the  deliberations  of  the  Board  of  Dea 
cons  were  to  be  considered  strictly  confidential. 

And  Jim  went  forth  with  strange  and  mixed  feelings. 
He  was  grateful  for  Higginbotham's  determined  protec 
tion  and  yet  he  would  have  held  the  Board  in  higher  re 
spect  if  it  had  punished  him  severely.  Such  was  the 
nature  of  the  ardent  Celt. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE   THREE   RELIGIONS   CONFRONT  HIM 

JACK  SHIVES'S  blacksmith  shop,  off  the  Main  Street 
of  Cedar  Mountain,  was  noted  for  two  things:  the 
sound,  all-round  work  it  turned  out  in  the  smithy 
line,  and  the  "perchers,"  an  ever-present  delegation  of 
village  characters  that  sat  chewing  straws  as  they  perched 
on  the  shop  lumber.  Most  of  them  came  to  hear  old 
Shives  talk,  for  Jack  was  a  philosopher  and  no  subject  was 
out  of  his  field.  Hartigan  liked  Shives,  enjoyed  the  shop 
with  its  smoke  and  flying  sparks,  and  took  a  keen  relish  in 
the  unfettered  debate  that  filled  in  the  intervals  between 
Shives's  ringing  blows  on  the  anvil. 

Dr.  Jebb  thought  himself  a  very  up-to-date  divine.  He 
had  tried  to  have  a  sort  of  free  discussion  in  his  study 
Sunday  nights  after  meeting,  but  the  restraint  of  parson- 
dom  was  over  it  all.  He  was  really  a  painfully  orthodox 
old  person;  all  his  up-to-dateness  was  within  the  covers  of 
the  catechism,  and  the  real  thinkers  kept  away.  Dr.  Car 
son  had  better  success,  but  he  was  a  bitter  politician,  so 
that  all  who  differed  from  him  on  national  or  local  politics 
avoided  his  house.  The  blacksmith  shop,  however,  was 
open  for  all,  and  the  real  discussions  of  the  village  were 
there.  Shives  had  a  masterful  way  of  assuming  the  chair 
manship,  and  of  doing  the  job  well,  often  while  pounding 

160 


THREE  RELIGIONS  CONFRONT  HIM      161 

the  anvil;  sometimes  an  effective  punctuation  of  his  re 
marks  came  in  the  hiss  of  hot  iron  thrust  in  the  tank,  and 
Shives  enjoyed  the  humour  of  obliterating  his  opponent  for 
the  moment  in  a  cloud  of  steam. 

Jim  Hartigan,  with  his  genial,  sociable  instincts,  was 
found  in  Shives's  shop  more  often  than  in  the  tiny  room 
which,  with  the  bed,  table,  and  books,  was  all  he  had  in  the 
way  of  home.  Dr.  Jebb  was  afraid  to  take  any  large  part 
in  these  deliberations.  They  were  apt  to  discuss  what  he 
considered  the  undiscussable  foundations  of  the  Church. 
But  Dr.  Carson  was  one  of  the  most  strenuous  of  the  de 
baters. 

"I  tell  you,  there  ain't  a  bit  o'  use  o'  your  talking,"  said 
Shives.  "If  I  stick  my  finger  in  that  fire,  I'm  a-going  to 
get  burnt  and  all  the  prayers  and  repentance  I  can  put  up 
ain't  a-going  to  wipe  off  that  burn.  I've  got  to  suffer  for 
what  I  do  just  the  same,  whether  I  belong  to  church  or 
not." 

"  Sure,  now,"  said  Hartigan,  "if  I  see  your  point,  there  is 
little  to  it.  You  are  talking  about  sin  being  its  own  pun 
ishment,  which  is  true;  but  suppose  a  doctor  came  along 
and  by  his  work  and  skill  saved  you  from  losing  the  finger 
altogether  and  in  the  end  your  finger  was  little  the  worse  and 
you  were  much  the  wiser- — what  about  your  theory  then  ? " 

"That  is  not  the  point.  If  it  was  the  same  thing,  when  I 
hurt  my  finger  I  would  only  have  to  say,  'I  repent;  the 
Lord  will  take  my  punishment,'  and  at  once  my  finger 
would  be  restored  as  it  was  before." 

"Well,  that  may  be  your  Church's  creed,  but  it  isn't 
mine,"  said  Hartigan;  and  they  wrangled  till  the  black- 


162    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

smith  halted  in  his  raking  of  the  coals,  turned  to  Hartigan, 
and  beating  in  the  air  with  his  coal  rake  like  a  band  leader 
with  his  baton,  he  said  with  punctuated  emphasis:  "My 
creed  tells  me  I  must  suffer  for  my  own  doings  just  as 
surely  as  if  I  lay  my  ringer  on  this  anvil  and  hit  it  a  crack 
with  the  hammer,  and  no  man  can  save  me  from  that,  and 
if  you  tell  me  that  God  is  a  wild  beast  and  merely  wants  a 
victim  to  punish,  no  matter  who,  then  I  want  to  know 
where  the  justice  comes  in.  There  is  not  any  greater 
wickedness  than  to  let  the  guilty  escape,  except  it  be  to 
punish  the  innocent;  and  that's  the  whole  sum  and  sub 
stance  of  your  religion,  which  wras  neatly  summed  up  by 
old  Blue  Horse  down  at  Pine  Ridge.  After  he  had  heard 
the  missionary  explaining  it  for  about  the  thousandth  time, 
he  said:  'Ho,  me  see  now;  your  God  is  my  devil/ 

"I  tell  you  there's  only  one  sum  and  substance  of  all  re 
ligion  that's  worth  while,  and  that  is  to  be  a  kind,  decent 
neighbour,  do  your  work,  and  help  others  to  do  theirs. 
You  will  find  that  set  forth,  straight  as  a  string,  in  your 
own  textbook,  where  it  says,  'Love  your  neighbour  as 
yourself."  And  the  blacksmith  drew  the  radiant  iron 
from  the  forge  to  pound,  pound,  pound,  amid  the  laughter 
that  proclaimed  the  defeat  of  the  Preacher. 

Hartigan  was  never  strong  on  theology.  At  college  he 
had  neglected  the  chance  to  learn  the  cut  and  parry  in  that 
strangest  of  all  games,  and  the  puzzle  for  which  he  had  no 
quick  answer  was  that  of  the  burnt  finger.  In  the  smithy 
debates  the  answer  had  to  be  quick,  or  it  was  no  answer  at 
all.  He  had  lost  the  chance  and  was  mortified  to  see  the 
verdict  of  the  crowd  against  him. 


THREE  RELIGIONS  CONFRONT  HIM      163 

"Jack,"  he  said,  "I  want  you  to  come  to  church  and  see 
how  simple  it  all  is." 

"Church.  Huh!  I  think  I  see  myself/'  said  the  black 
smith. 

"That's  not  fair,"  said  Hartigan.  "You  condemn 
church  without  going  to  see  what  it  is." 

"Oh,  I've  been  there  a-plenty." 

"When?" 

"Twenty  years  ago." 

"Oh,  pshaw!     It's  all  changed  since  then." 

"Is  it?  That's  a  good  one.  I  thought  God's  religion 
was  unchangeable  for  ever  and  ever.  I  tell  you,  young 
fellow,  if  you  keep  on  working  and  thinking  you  will  wind 
up  with  a  religion  of  common  sense  and  kindness  which,  as 
near  as  I  can  make  out,  is  what  the  man  Jesus  did 
preach." 

"Then  why  don't  you  come  to  hear  it?"  retorted  Harti 
gan. 

"Because  ye  don't  preach  it." 

"That's  not  a  fair  way  to  put  it,"  reiterated  Harti 
gan. 

"See  here,"  said  Shives,  "I  will  go  to  church  next  Sun 
day  and  right  along,  if  whenever  you  get  off  some  fool 
statement  that  every  one  knows  is  nonsense,  you  let  me  or 
some  one  get  up  and  say,  'Now  prove  that,  or  take  it  back 
before  you  go  further." 

Hartigan  was  worsted.  He  did  not  retreat,  but  he  was 
glad  of  the  interruption  furnished  by  a  wild  horse  brought 
in  to  be  shod.  Here  he  took  the  lead  and  showed  such  con 
summate  horse  sense  in  the  handling  of  the  animal  that  the 


164    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

blacksmith  growled,  "If  you'd  put  some  of  that  into  your 
pulpit,  I'd  go  to  hear  you." 

As  Jim  mounted  Blazing  Star  and  rode  away  at  an  easy 

swing,  all  eyes  followed  him,  and  the  blacksmith  growled : 

*  'Homely  in  the  cradle,  handsome  on  the  horse/  they  say. 

He  must  'a'  been  a  clock-stopper  when  he  was  a  kid.    Pity 

to  waste  all  that  on  a  pulpiteer." 

Later,  the  Preacher  had  a  full  discussion  with  Belle. 
The  blacksmith  had  dented  Hartigan's  armour  in  several 
places.  Where  was  the  justice  in  punishing  one  being  for 
another's  sins  ?  Even  if  the  sufferer  was  willing,  it  was  still 
wicked  injustice.  How  could  repentance  wipe  out  the  self- 
brought  injury?  These  were  among  the  puzzles.  Dr. 
Jebb  was  his  natural  helper,  but  the  Preacher  brought  them 
first  to  Belle.  She  had  gone  deeper  and  further  than  he 
had.  She  dreaded  doctrinal  discussion,  but  at  length  said: 

"Did  you  never  hear  of  the  transfusion  of  blood  whereby 
a  man  may  give  of  his  strength  and,  by  suffering,  save  a 
friend  from  death  ?  Did  you  never  hear  of  a  man  tottering 
and  almost  down  who  was  found  by  a  friend  at  the  right 
moment,  helped  to  greater  strength  by  mutual  suffering, 
and  so  restored  to  his  balance  before  he  went  down  to 
ruin?" 

And  the  fervent  answer  was,  "Yes,  I  have." 

New  vistas  were  opened  to  them  by  this  open-hearted 
talk — truly  communion — and  as  they  rode  through  the 
gray-bloomed  sage  they  followed  still  the  thought.  Then 
he  waved  a  hand  and  raised  his  face  toward  Cedar  Mountain 
with  its  column  seeming  small  against  the  sky. 


THREE  RELIGIONS  CONFRONT  HIM      165 

"I  want  you  to  see  it,  Belle.  I  want  you  to  stand  there 
with  me  and  know  how  much  it  means  when  your  spirit  is 
just  right." 

She  swung  her  horse  with  his  and  they  headed  for  the 
trail.  He  had  talked  to  her  about  it  before,  but  he  had 
felt  a  little  disappointed  that  her  imagination  was  not 
stirred  as  his  had  been — that  the  mystery  and  charm,  the 
emotional  awe,  so  easy  for  his  Celtic  blood,  had  not  been 
conjured  up  in  her  by  his  words.  But  he  still  had  hopes 
that  the  feeling  of  the  far-up  shrine  would  weave  enchant 
ment  of  its  own;  and  he  told  her  of  the  second  sight  that  the 
fay  of  his  mother's  land  could  give  if  one  sang  a  song  of  the 
one  right  pitch  in  the  glen  of  the  "very  stone." 

So  they  rode  through  the  sage  to  the  trailing  cedar  robe 
and  followed  upward  till  the  upper  edgeof  the  fragrant  woods 
was  reached.  There  they  tied  the  horses  and  climbed  on 
foot  to  the  upland.  The  grass  among  the  rocks  was  yellow 
now,  and  high  gentians  seized  on  the  rare  moment  to 
flaunt  their  wondrous  blue  against  that  perfect  back 
ground.  A  flock  of  autumn  birds  rose  up  and  flew  on,  as 
the  climbers,  reaching  the  Spirit  Rock,  paused  and  turned 
to  look  out  over  the  golden  plains  to  the  east,  over  the  blue 
hills  to  the  north,  and  into  the  purple  glow  that  the  waning 
sunlight  left  on  all  the  west. 

Belle  rejoiced  in  it  for  its  material  beauty  and  its  wealth 
of  colour;  and  Jim,  shyly  watching  her,  said: 

"Sometimes  as  I  stand  by  this  rock  pinnacle  and  look 
over  the  plain,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  an  ocean  rover,  high  up  in 
the  lookout,  peering  over  the  rough  and  tumbling  sea.  It 
possesses  me  with  more  than  the  power  of  a  dream." 


166    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Then,  after  a  pause:  "See,  here  is  where  the  Indian  boy 
was  sitting  as  he  kept  his  fast  and  vigil.  I  wonder  what  he 
saw.  Some  day,  Belle,  I  want  to  take  that  vigil.  Do  you 
remember  that  the  prophets  of  old  always  did  so  when  they 
sought  light?  I  am  learning  that  the  Indian  had  some 
light,  and  to-day  I  have  done  as  he  would  do,  I  have 
brought  my  sacred  medicine  with  me."  He  produced  a 
little  cedar  box  that  his  father  had  made.  He  opened  it 
and  deeply  inhaled  its  fragrance.  "That  is  cedar,  Belle; 
it  carries  me  back  to  other  days  when,  under  the  cedar 
shingles,  my  mother  put  her  arm  about  me  and  prayed  that 
I  might  find  the  Eternal  Guide." 

He  took  out  his  mother's  Bible,  her  photograph  and  the 
daguerreotype  of  his  father.  These  were  his  sacred  relics, 
and  with  them  was  a  bundle  of  cedar  twigs  to  keep  the 
fragrance  ever  there — to  keep  continually  with  them  the 
power,  through  smell,  to  conjure  up  those  days  and 
thoughts  of  her  love.  Belle  took  them  reverently  and 
gazed  at  the  prim  old  pictures;  then  she  looked  him 
squarely  in  the  eyes,  intensely  for  a  moment,  like  one  who 
looks  through  a  veil  for  the  first  time  and  sees  a  hidden 
chamber  unguessed  before. 

"Belle,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  a  little  husky;  "if  I 
had  gone  on  to  the  Big  Cheyenne  that  time,  I  would  have 
built  a  fire  as  soon  as  I  had  the  chance  and  burnt  all  these 
to  ashes;  and  then  what — God  only  knows,  for  these  were 
the  vessels  of  my  sanctuary;  this  was  the  ark  of  my  coven 
ant,  with  the  rod  that  budded,  the  tables  of  the  law,  and 
the  precious  incense."  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  in  silent 
comprehension  and  he  went  on.  "All  my  life  I  have  had 


THREE  RELIGIONS  CONFRONT  HIM      167 

two  natures  struggling  within  me;  and  the  destroyer  would 
have  won,  and  had  won,  when  you  turned  the  rout.  If  you 
had  not  come  to  me  in  Deadwood  I  would  surely  have 
burnt  these  relics.  Now  you  understand.  I  couldn't 
speak  about  it  down  there;  but  up  here  it  is  easy.  Some 
time  I  may  be  missing  for  a  couple  of  days.  Do  not  worry 
then;  it  will  only  mean  I  have  gone  up  into  my  mountain. 
I  am  seeking  the  light  that  comes  from  prayer  and  fasting 
and  vigil  in  a  high  place." 

"I  know  those  things  as  words,"  she  said.  "Just  as  we 
all  learned  them  in  Sunday-school;  but  you  make  them  as 
real  as  this  mountain,  a  part  of  my  very  life." 

He  replaced  the  relics  in  their  cedar  box  and  she  realized 
that  for  the  first  time  she  had  had  a  glimpse  of  the  deep  and 
spiritual  quality  of  his  soul. 


BOOK  III 
THE  HORSE  PREACHER 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
BLAZING   STAR 

THE  Angel  of  Destiny  who  had  special  charge  of 
Jim  had  listed  and  measured  his  failings  and 
had  numbered  them  for  drastic  treatment. 
The  brawling  spirit  of  his  early  days,  the  proneness  to 
drink,  the  bigoted  intolerance  of  any  other  mode  of 
thought  than  his  own,  the  strange  mistake  of  thinking 
physical  courage  the  only  courage,  a  curious  disregard  for 
the  things  of  the  understanding — each  was  the  cause  of 
bitter  suffering.  Each  in  its  kind  was  alloy,  dross,  and  for 
each  the  metal  had  to  pass  through  the  fires  and,  purified, 
come  forth. 

Hartigan's  love  of  sport  was  rooted  deep  in  his  nature 
and  Fate  gave  it  a  long  fling.  It  took  no  cruel  or  destruct 
ive  form,  nor  did  it  possess  him  as  a  hate;  but  certain 
things  held  him  in  passionate  allegiance,  so  deep  and  so 
reckless  that  when  their  fever  was  upon  him  nothing  else 
seemed  worth  a  thought.  And  the  chiefest  of  these  was  his 
love  of  horses.  A  noble  thing  in  itself,  a  necessary  vent, 
perhaps,  for  the  untamed  spirit's  love  of  untrammelled 
motion  but  it  was  inwrought  with  dangers.  Most  men  in 
the  West  in  Hartigan's  day — as  now — were  by  nature 
horse-lovers;  but  never,  so  far  as  Cedar  Mountain  knew, 

171 


172    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

had  there  been  a  man  so  horse-crazy  as  the  Rev.  James 
Hartigan.  Already,  he  was  known  as  the  "Horse 
Preacher." 

It  was  seldom  that  an  animal  received  so  much  personal 
care  as  Blazing  Star;  it  was  seldom  that  a  steed  so  worthy 
could  be  found;  and  the  results  were  for  all  to  behold.  The 
gaunt  colt  of  the  immigrant  became  the  runner  of  Cedar 
Mountain,  and  the  victory  won  at  Fort  Ryan  was  the  first 
of  many  ever  growing  in  importance. 

You  can  tell  much  of  a  man's  relation  to  his  horse  when 
he  goes  to  bring  him  from  pasture.  If  he  tricks  and  drives 
him  into  a  corner,  and  then  by  sudden  violence  puts  on  the 
bridle,  you  know  that  he  has  no  love,  no  desire  for  anything 
but  service;  in  return  he  will  get  poor  service  at  best, 
and  no  love  at  all.  If  he  puts  a  lump  of  sugar  in  his  pocket 
and  goes  to  the  fence,  calling  his  horse  by  name,  and  the 
horse  comes  joyously  as  to  meet  a  friend,  and  with  mobile, 
velvet  lips  picks  the  sugar  clean  from  the  offering  palm 
and  goes  willingly  to  saddle  and  bit,  then  you  know  that 
the  man  is  a  horse  man,  probably  a  horseman;  by  the  bond 
of  love  he  holds  his  steed,  and  will  get  from  him  twice  the 
service  and  for  thrice  as  long  as  any  couM  extort  with  spur 
and  whip. 

"Whoa,  Blazing  Star,  whoa,  and  the  gold-red  meteor  of 
the  prairie  would  shake  his  mane  and  tail  and  come  career 
ing,  curvetting,  not  direct,  but  round  in  a  brief  spiral  to  find 
a  period  point  at  the  hand  he  loved. 

"Ten  times,"  said  Colonel  Waller,  of  the  Fort,  "have  I 
seen  a  man  so  bound  up  in  the  friendship  of  his  dog  that  all 
human  ties  had  second  place;  but  never  before  or  since 


BLAZING  STAR  173 

have  I  seen  a  man  so  bonded  to  his  horse,  or  a  horse  so 
nobly  answering  in  his  kind,  as  Hartigan  and  his  Blazing 
Star." 

The  ancients  had  a  fable  of  a  horse  and  a  rider  so  attuned 
— so  wholly  one — that  the  brain  of  the  man  and  the  power 
of  the  horse  were  a  single  being,  a  wonderful  creature  to 
whom  the  impossible  was  easy  play.  And  there  is  good 
foundation  for  the  myth  Who  that  has  ridden  on  the 
polo  field  or  swung  the  lasso  behind  the  bounding  herd,  can 
forget  the  many  times  when  he  dropped  the  reins  and 
signalled  to  the  horse  only  by  the  gentle  touch  of  knee,  of 
heel,  by  voice,  by  body  swing,  by  wishing  thus  and  so,  and 
got  response?  For  the  horse  and  he  were  perfectly  at 
tuned  and  trained — the  reins  superfluous.  Thus,  centaur- 
like,  they  went,  with  more  than  twice  the  power  that  either 
by  itself  possessed. 

Fort  Ryan  where  the  Colonel  held  command,  was  in  the 
Indian  reserve  and  five  miles  south  of  Cedar  Mountain. 
The  life  of  the  garrison  was  very  self-contained,  but  Cedar 
Mountain  had  its  allurements,  and  there  were  some  enter 
tainments  where  civilian  and  soldier  met.  The  trail  be 
tween  was  a  favourite  drive  or  ride  and  to  Hartigan  it 
became  very  familiar. 

There  was  one  regular  function  that  had  a  strong  hold 
on  him.  It  took  place  every  other  Saturday  afternoon  on 
the  parade  ground,  and  was  called  general  riding  exercises, 
but  was  really  a  "stunt  show"  of  trick  riding.  After  they 
began  to  know  him,  the  coming  of  Hartigan  with  his  horse 
was  hailed  by  all  with  delight.  The  evenings  of  these 
festal  days  were  spent  in  the  gymnasium,  when  there  was 


174    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

an  athletic  programme  with  great  prominence  given  to 
sword  play,  boxing,  and  singlestick,  in  which  Hartigan  was 
the  king;  and  here  his  cup  of  joy  was  full. 

"Ain't  it  a  shame  to  waste  all  that  stuff  on  a  preacher?" 
was  the  frequent  expression  of  the  soldiers.  Though  what 
better  use  they  would  have  made  of  it,  was  not  clear. 

Many  a  dark  night  Hartigan  rode  home  from  the  Fort 
after  the  evening's  fun  was  over  leaving  it  entirely  to  his 
horse  to  select  the  road,  after  the  manner  of  the  wise 
horseman.  In  mid-August  there  had  been  one  of  the 
typical  Black  Hill  storms.  After  a  month  of  drought,  it 
had  rained  inches  in  a  few  hours.  The  little  Rapid  Fork 
of  the  Cheyenne  was  a  broad  flood  which  carried  off  most 
of  its  bridges,  including  that  on  the  trail  to  the  Fort.  The 
rain  had  ceased  the  day  before,  but  the  flood  had  subsided 
very  little  by  Saturday  night  as  Hartigan  mounted  Blazing 
Star  and  set  out  for  the  fortnightly  affair  at  Fort  Ryan. 

The  sky  was  still  blocked  with  clouds  and  at  eight  o'clock 
it  was  black  dark,  so  Hartigan  left  the  selection  of  the  trail, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  to  Blazing  Star.  From  the  time  of 
leaving  the  last  light  in  Cedar  Mountain  till  they  drew  up 
under  the  first  lantern  at  Fort  Ryan,  Hartigan  never  saw 
the  horse  he  was  riding,  much  less  the  road  he  was  riding 
on:  nor  had  he  touched  the  reins  or  given  by  word  or 
pressure  of  knee  any  signal  of  guidance.  The  night  was 
too  black  for  his  senses,  but  he  knew  he  was  committing 
his  way  to  senses  that  were  of  a  keener  order  than  his  own, 
and  he  rode  as  a  child  might — without  thought  of  fear. 
He  could  feel  it  when  they  were  going  down  into  the  canyon 
of  the  Rapid  Fork,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  slight  descent 


BLAZING  STAR  175 

he  heard  the  rush  of  waters,  and  noted  that  Blazing  Star 
lowered  his  head  and  snorted  softly  more  than  once.  He 
heard  the  tap  of  the  hoofs  on  the  timber  of  the  bridge,  and 
then  they  ascended  and  came  in  a  little  while  to  the  lan 
tern  at  the  door  of  the  gymnasium  in  the  barracks. 

"Hello,  Hartigan!  Where  in  the  world  did  you  come 
from?"  was  the  cordial  greeting  of  Colonel  Waller. 

"Where  could  I  come  from  but  Cedar  Mountain?" 

"The  deuce  you  did." 

"Why  not?" 

"How  did  you  cross  the  creek?" 

"By  the  bridge." 

"Oh,  no,  you  didn't." 

"I  surely  did,"  said  the  Preacher. 

"Well,  you  didn't,  because  there  isn't  any  bridge.  It  all 
went  out  last  night,"  was  the  Colonel's  astounding  an 
swer. 

"Be  that  as  it  may,"  said  the  Preacher,  "I  have  come 
here  direct  from  Cedar  Mountain.  I  left  at  eight  o'clock 
and  here  I  am,  arrived  by  the  road  at  eight  forty-five;  and  I 
crossed  the  Rapid  Fork  of  the  Cheyenne  on  the  bridge.  I 
didn't  see  it.  I  didn't  see  my  horse  from  start  to  finish.  I 
didn't  see  one  inch  of  the  road;  but  I  heard  it  and  felt  it. 
Anyway,  I'm  here." 

That  night  the  Preacher  stayed  at  the  Fort,  but  he  was 
up  at  daylight.  So  were  the  officers,  for  they  had  laid  bets 
on  this  matter.  They  came  to  the  little  canyon,  the  river, 
and  the  place  of  the  bridge;  the  bridge  was  gone;  but,  yes, 
surely  there  was  one  long  stringer  left.  It  had  been  held 
by  the  bolt  at  one  end,  and  the  officer  charged  with  repair- 


176    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

ing  the  bridge  had  swung  it  back  into  place  that  very  after 
noon,  and  made  it  firm  to  serve  as  a  footbridge,  though  it 
was  barely  twelve  inches  wide. 

There,  plainly  written  in  the  soft  earth,  was  the  story  of 
the  crossing.  Blazing  Star  had  descended  the  bank,  and 
had  missed  the  narrow  stringer  by  a  yard.  He  had  nosed 
along  till  he  found  it  and  had  crossed  over  on  that  with  the 
delicate  poise  and  absolute  sense  of  certainty  that  would 
have  been  destroyed  had  the  rider  tried  to  give  a  guiding 
hand.  And  the  end  would  have  been  sure  death  had  Harti- 
gan  not  trusted  to  his  horse  so  utterly.  The  best  of  steed 
and  man  had  thus  begot  a  creature  on  a  higher  plane — in 
spirit  and  effect  the  centaur  of  the  ancient  tale. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
RED   ROVER 

AJGUST  was  advancing  with  everything  shaping  for 
a  great  local  event.     The  Corn  Dance  of  the  In 
dians  to  celebrate  the  first  of  the  new  crop  was  an 
old  festival  and  brought  hundreds  of  them  together.     In 
addition,  the  government  had  selected  September  fifteenth 
for  the  semi-annual  issue  of  the  treaty  money.     This  was  a 
coincidence  of  festivals  that  insured  a  great  attendance  and 
at  all  such  times  horse-racing  was  the  favourite  sport. 

On  the  Fourth  of  July  of  that  year  the  Indians  had  pro 
duced  an  extraordinary  buckskin  cayuse  which,  in  spite  of 
its  humble  origin  and  raw  exterior,  had  proved  speedy 
enough  to  defeat  all  opposition  and  capture  the  big  purse. 
Interest  in  the  opportunity  for  revenge  had  grown  every 
day  since,  and  the  fact  that  each  Indian  family  was  to  get 
one  hundred  dollars  in  cash,  enhanced  the  chances  of  a  fat 
purse.  A  winning  horse  was  the  first  need  of  the  ranch 
men  and  they  turned  at  once  to  Hartigan  and  Blazing 
Star.  They  were  much  taken  aback  to  receive  from  him  a 
flat  refusal  to  enter  or  to  let  any  one  else  enter  Blazing 
Star  for  a  race.  In  vain  they  held  out  great  inducements, 
possibilities  of  a  huge  fortune,  certainly  of  a  big  lump  sum 
down  in  advance,  or  almost  any  price  he  chose  to  ask  for 
Blazing  Star. 

177 


i78    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Hartigan's  reply  was  an  emphatic  "No."  And  that  was 
the  end  of  it. 

There  was  nothing  for  the  whites  to  do  but  find  another 
racer.  There  certainly  was  no  such  horse  as  they  needed 
in  all  the  country;  had  there  been,  they  would  have  known 
it;  and  those  who  took  the  matter  to  heart  were  planning  a 
visit  to  Illinois  or  Kentucky  even,  where  it  was  simply  a 
matter  of  money  to  get  a  blooded  horse  that  would  settle 
the  issue. 

While  on  a  long  hard  trip  for  the  spiritual  help  of 
brethren  in  the  South,  Jim  was  left  for  a  day  at  Chadron, 
Nebraska,  a  distributing  point  for  settlers  coming  to  the 
Platte.  With  the  instinct  born  of  his  Western  life,  Jim 
made  for  the  big  horse  corral,  which  is  always  on  the  out 
skirts  of  a  prairie  town  and  where  he  knew  he  could  pass  a 
pleasant  hour  or  more.  It  was,  as  usual,  crowded  with 
horses  of  low  and  middle  class  degree — some  old  and  worn, 
some  young  and  raw,  many  extraordinary  pintos,  one  or 
two  mounts  above  the  average  of  size  or  beauty,  but  noth 
ing  to  secure  more  than  passing  attention. 

The  scene  in  and  about  the  corral  held  a  great  fascina 
tion  for  Jim.  There  were  cowboys  and  stable  hands; 
farmers  whose  horses  were  in  the  corral  or  whose  homes 
were  in  the  prairie  schooners  anchored  on  the  plain  nearby; 
men  were  coming  and  going,  and  groups  of  children 
rollicked  about  the  camp  fire. 

As  Hartigan  looked  on,  a  young  fellow — whose  soft,  slow 
speech  and  "r"-  less  words  were  certain  proof  of  Southern 
birth — led  from  a  stable  a  tall,  clean-limbed  horse  and, 
flopping  into  the  saddle  with  easy  carelessness,  rode  away. 


RED  ROVER  179 

As  he  passed,  the  horse's  coat  of  bronze  and  gold  fairly 
rippled  in  the  sun  as  the  perfect  muscles  played  beneath, 
and  the  delight  that  Jim  got,  none  but  a  horseman  would 
understand.  As  the  lad  cantered  away  to  a  camping 
group  and  returned,  the  Preacher  had  a  fair  view.  The 
horse  might  have  been  twin  brother  to  his  own,  and  he 
did  not  need  the  rider's  assurance  that  the  steed  was  a 
"Kaintucky  blood  all  right." 

In  all  the  Western  towns  an  interesting  custom  has  grown 
up  in  the  matter  of  registering.  The  chief  hotel  is  accepted 
as  the  social  centre  and  clubhouse,  so  that  a  man  arriving 
in  town,  whether  he  puts  up  at  the  hotel  or  not,  goes  to  the 
register  and  enters  his  name.  "Never  fail  to  register;  it 
may  be  handy  to  prove  an  alibi,"  has  become  a  saying. 
Jim  went  to  the  hotel  with  an  idea.  He  registered,  glanced 
over  the  other  names  and  learned  that  Cattleman  Kyle 
was  then  in  town.  It  was  easy  to  find  him  in  a  place  of 
this  size,  and  after  a  brief  search  Jim  hailed  him  boister 
ously  from  afar: 

"Say,  Kyle,  I've  found  what  you  are  looking  for." 
"What's  that?" 

"A  horse.     A  real  horse.     A  winner." 
"What?     Are  you  willing  to  sell  Blazing  Star?" 
"No!"  was  the  forceful  answer.     "Come  and  see." 
And  Kyle  did  see.     His  eye  kindled  as  he  watched  the 
glorious  creature  in  the  sun. 

"By  jinks!  He's  all  right.  He's  better  than  Blazing 
Star."  ' 

"Not  on  your  life!"  said  Jim,  with  sudden  heat,  "but 
he's  what  you  are  after." 


i8o   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

They  walked  casually  up  to  the  young  rider.    Kyle  began : 

"Say,  young  fellow,  is  that  horse  for  sale?" 

"  Yo'  the  fo'th  pah'ty  to-day  to  ask  that,"  was  the  softly 
cooed  answer.  "No,  he  ain't  fo'  sale." 

"Looks  to  me  like  a  Kentucky  blood,"  said  Kyle.  "Are 
you  going  to  keep  him  in  this  country  or  ride  him  back?" 

"Wall,  I'm  h'yah  to  stay,  and  I  guess  he  stays  with  me." 

"What  are  you  going  to  feed  him  on?  You  can't  get 
timothy  or  beans  or  oats  out  here.  He  couldn't  keep  up  on 
prairie  hay;  and,  if  you  did  try  it,  he'd  get  the  loco  weed." 

This  w^s  a  good  shot  and  the  rider  had  no  ready  answer, 
so  Kyle  continued.  "How  old  is  he?" 

"  Fo'  last  spring  and  sound  as  a  bell;  hasn't  a  fault,"  was 
the  reply. 

"Why  don't  you  swap  him  for  something  that  can  stand 
the  country  ? "  said  Kyle.  Then,  as  the  Southerner  did  not 
reply,  Kyle  continued:  "I'll  give  you  two  steady  young 
saddle  horses  raised  in  the  country  and  proof  against  pink 
eye  and  loco  weed." 

"If  you  add  about  a  thousand  dollars,  I  might  consider 
it,"  was  the  response. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  bargaining,  and  the  end  was 
that  the  Kentuckian  got  two  native  saddle  horses  and  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  cash.  Cattleman  Kyle  got  the 
beautiful  Red  Rover  and  Jim  Hartigan  experienced  just  a 
twinge  of  jealousy  as  he  saw  the  new  champion  and  heard 
his  praises  sung.  Kyle's  intention  had  been  to  keep  Red 
Rover  and  rejoice  in  the  beauty  and  power  of  the  new 
possession;  but  the  problem  of  how  to  win  the  next  race 
made  every  other  consideration  secondary. 


RED  ROVER  181 

It  is  well  known  that  a  skilful  trainer  can  knock  twenty- 
five  seconds  off  a  horse's  mile  time;  or  even  more,  if  he  can 
be  trained  on  clean  oats  and  timothy  hay.  There  were 
oats,  hay  and  skilful  trainers  in  the  cavalry  barracks  at 
Fort  Ryan.  There  were  none  of  these  things  at  Kyle's 
ranch  on  the  Big  Cheyenne;  hence,  after  much  debate,  Red 
Rover  was  transferred,  without  profit  or  loss,  to  Captain 
Wayne  and  was  thenceforth  the  central  figure  and  chiefest 
hope  of  the  Fort  Ryan  stables. 

Naturally,  one  of  the  first  things  to  be  done  was  to  get  a 
gauge  on  Red  Rover's  speed  by  a  race  with  Blazing  Star. 
It  was  only  a  race  "for  fun,"  and  Jim  gave  his  place  to  a 
lighter  man;  but  he  watched  with  an  eagerness  not  easily 
expressed  in  words,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  joy — yes, 
into  his  very  throat — when  it  was  made  clear,  that,  while 
Red  Rover  was  good,  Blazing  Star  was  better. 

All  these  things  were  events  of  the  first  magnitude  to  the 
horseman's  world  that  centred  at  Fort  Ryan.  The  love 
of  horses  is  common  to  most  men,  but  it  is  dominant  in  the 
West,  and  rampant  in  the  mounted  soldier.  The  general 
interest  of  officers  and  men  grew  into  a  very  keen  and  per 
sonal  interest  as  the  training  went  on,  and  touched  fever 
heat  when  it  was  definitely  announced  that  on  Treaty  Day, 
September  fifteenth,  there  was  to  be  a  race  for  a  purse  of 
one  hundred  dollars,  as  a  nominal  consideration,  and  bet 
ting  to  any  extent  on  the  side.  Meanwhile,  word  was  sent 
to  the  Pine  Ridge  Agency  that  the  whites  were  not  dis 
couraged  by  their  defeat  in  July,  but  would  come  again 
with  their  horse  in  the  Corn  Feast  time  for  a  new  race. 

Then,  one  fine  morning  in  early  August,  a  long  procession 


1 82    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

of  Indians  appeared  on  the  hills,  singing  their  marching 
songs,  trailing  their  travois  and  tepee  poles.  They  set  up 
their  camp  not  far  from  Fort  Ryan;  and  soon,  Red  Cloud, 
with  a  few  who  were  near  him,  rode  in  to  call  on  Colonel 
Waller.  The  latter  received  them  on  the  piazza  of  his 
quarters,  and,  after  a  smoke,  learned  that  they  had  come 
to  accept  the  challenge  to  race  their  horses.  When  and 
where  should  it  be?  It  was  arranged  that  on  the  fifteenth 
of  September  they  should  meet  at  Fort  Ryan,  and  that  the 
race  should  come  off  on  the  two-mile  course  at  the  Fort. 
After  smokes,  compliments  and  the  exchange  of  some 
presents,  Red  Cloud  withdrew  to  his  camp. 

The  following  day,  as  his  trainer  was  putting  Red  Rover 
through  his  paces  around  the  course,  there  was  a  group  of 
Indians  on  their  horses  at  the  racetrack;  silent,  attentive, 
watching  every  move.  At  dawn,  the  day  after,  the  sentry 
reported  that  a  band  of  mounted  Indians  were  on  the  race 
track.  From  his  window  the  Colonel  watched  them 
through  a  telescope.  He  saw  them  studying  the  ground; 
and  then  a  naked  youth,  on  a  spirited  buckskin,  galloped 
round.  It  was  easy  for  the  Colonel  to  note  the  time  by  his 
stop-watch  and  thus  have  a  rough  idea  of  the  pony's  flat 
speed  on  the  two  miles  He  was  not  surprised  one  way  or 
the  other.  The  time  was  considerably  over  four  minutes, 
which  merely  proved  it  to  be  an  ordinarily  good  horse. 
But,  of  course,  he  knew  nothing  of  the  handling;  was  this 
top  speed  ?  or  was  the  driver  holding  the  horse  in?  In  ten 
minutes  the  Indians  were  gone. 

The  next  day,  a  party  rode  out  from  Cedar  Mountain  to 
see  the  Indian  camp;  and,  leading  the  light-hearted  pro- 


RED  ROVER  183 

cession,  were  Belle  Boyd  on  her  pony  and  the  Preacher  on 
Blazing  Star.  It  was  not  easy  to  see  Red  Cloud.  He  was 
much  wrapped  up  in  his  dignity  and  declined  to  receive 
any  one  under  the  rank  of  "Soldier  High  Chief"  (Colonel). 
But  they  found  much  to  interest  them  in  the  Sioux  camp, 
and  at  length,  were  rewarded  by  seeing  the  war  chief  come 
forth,  mount  his  horse,  and  ride,  with  others,  toward  the 
Fort.  Turning  aside,  at  the  racetrack,  Belle  and  Jim  saw 
Red  Rover  come  forth  for  his  morning  spin.  The  Red 
men  drifted  to  the  starting  point,  and  just  as  the  racer 
went  away  an  Indian  boy  on  a  buckskin  broncho  dashed 
alongside  and  kept  there  round  the  track.  Whether  it  was 
a  race  or  not  no  one  could  say,  for  each  rider  was  jockeying, 
not  willing  to  win  or  lose,  and  it  had  the  appearance  of  a 
prearranged  dead  heat.  One  of  the  officers  called  out: 
"Say,  boys,  that's  their  same  old  buckskin  cayuse.  What 
do  you  make  of  it?" 

It  was  the  white  jockey  who  replied:    "If  that's  their 
speeder,  it's  a  cinch.     I  could  have  run  away  at  any 


time." 


A  senior  officer  spoke  up:  "I  kept  tabs  on  it,  and  it's 
just  the  same  time  practically  as  the  Colonel  took  on  his 
stop  watch  yesterday.  We've  got  them  this  time." 

What  the  Indians  learned  was  not  revealed.  But,  next 
morning,  Red  Cloud  called  upon  the  Colonel.  He  smoked 
a  long  while  before  he  made  clear  what  he  was  after.  "  Did 
the  Colonel  want  a  fair  race,  or  not  ? " 

"Why  certainly  a  fair  race." 

"Then  send  to  Red  Cloud  a  load  of  the  white  man's 
grass  that  has  a  tail  ike  a  rat;  and  give  him  also  some  of 


1 84    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

the  long  white  seed,  a  pile  as  high  as  a  man's  knees,  so 
that  the  pony  might  eat  and  be  strong,  and  make  good 


race." 


The  Colonel's  eyes  twinkled.  "Ho,  ho!"  he  thought, 
"the  crafty  old  villain  has  been  learning  something/1 

Now  though  the  Colonel  of  a  frontier  post  has  ample 
power,  it  wrould  have  been  very  unwise  of  him  to  sell  any 
stores  to  the  Indian;  he  might,  however,  without  risk  of 
censure,  have  given  him  the  asked-for  supply,  had  he 
deemed  it  advisable.  But  why  should  he  help  the  enemy's 
horse ?  So  he  shook  his  head  and  said  he  was  "not  allowed 
to  sell  government  stores."  And  Red  Cloud  turned  away, 
with  an  expression  of  scorn. 

The  next  day,  a  minor  chief  tried  to  buy  some  oats  from 
the  stable  man;  but,  being  refused,  went  off  in  silence;  and, 
two  days  later,  the  Indian  Camp  was  gone. 

The  news  soon  spread  abroad  that  the  famous  buckskin 
cayuse  had  been  up  to  go  over  the  track,  and  that  Red 
Rover  had  played  with  him.  "It  was  a  cinch,"  they  could 
win  any  money  they  liked;  and  then  the  betting  became 
crazy.  The  Indians  have  no  idea  of  anything  but  an 
even  bet,  but  that  was  good  enough  The  day  of  the  race 
there  were  to  be  fifty  thousand  government  dollars  dis 
tributed  among  them;  and  every  white  man,  soldier  or 
civilian,  who  could  raise  a  little  cash,  was  putting  it  up 
on  a  certainty  of  doubling 

The  days  and  all  they  held  were  a  terrible  strain  on  Jim 
Hartigan.  How  he  itched  to  be  in  it!  Not  once,  but 
many  times,  he  rode  to  Fort  Ryan  to  see  Red  Rover  train 
ing;  and  more  than  once  he  rode  around  the  track  to  pace 


RED  ROVER  185 

the  Rover.  His  face,  his  very  soul,  glowed  as  he  watched 
the  noble  animal,  neck  and  neck  with  his  own  fair  steed. 
"The  only  horse  that  ever  had  made  Blazing  Star  let 


out/ 


Then,  near  the  end,  in  very  pride — he  could  not  help  it — 
he  put  Blazing  Star  to  it  and  let  them  see  that  while  Red 
Rover  might  be  good,  he  was  only  second  best  after  all. 

"It  wasn't  racing,"  he  explained  to  Belle,  "it  was  just 
speeding  up  a  little.  Sure,  I  want  the  white  man's  horse 
to  win  over  that  Indian  pony.  It  would  never  do  to  have 
the  broncho  win." 

There  seemed  no  probability  of  that;  but  there  was  one 
group  of  interested  white  men  who  were  not  quite  so  satis 
fied.  Cattleman  Kyle  and  all  the  ranchers  on  the  Chey 
enne  wanted  a  sure  thing;  and  there  was  no  way  to  make 
sure,  but  by  a  trial  race  that  was  a  real  race.  So  they  used 
the  old-time  trick  of  the  white  man  who  wishes  to  get 
ahead  of  the  Indian:  they  hired  another  Indian  to  help 
them. 

There  had  always  been  war  and  hatred  between  the 
Crows  and  the  Sioux.  The  war  was  over  for  the  present; 
but  the  Crows  were  very  ready  to  help  any  one  against 
their  former  enemies.  Enlisted  by  the  ranchers  the  Crow 
spies  reported  that  the  Sioux  were  training  their  horse  not 
ten  miles  away  in  a  secluded  secret  canyon  of  the  Yellow- 
bank,  a  tributary  of  the  Cheyenne  River.  And  thither  by 
night,  with  all  possible  secrecy,  went  Kyle  with  a  dozen 
more.  Among  them  was  Hartrgan.  Why?  Partly  be 
cause  they  wanted  him  along,  for  his  knowledge  of  horses 
and  jockeys,  and  chiefly  because  he  himself  was  mad  to  go, 


1 86    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

when  he  heard  of  it.  The  whole  colour  of  the  adventure, 
the  mere  fact  of  its  being  an  adventure,  were  overpowering 
to  his  untamed  twenty-five-year-old  spirit. 

They  hid  their  horses  in  a  distant  valley;  then,  in  the 
early  dawn,  they  followed  their  dusky  guide  to  a  little 
butte,  where  they  made  themselves  as  comfortable  as 
possible  to  await  the  sunrise. 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "considering  I'm  freezing  to  death  an' 
mortal  hungry,  and  sitting  on  a  bunch  of  cactus,  and  play 
ing  pick-pocket  with  another  man's  secrets  and  ashamed 
of  myself,  I'm  having  a  divil  of  a  fine  time!"  And  they 
chattered  and  their  teeth  chattered,  till  a  dog  barked  far 
below,  and  they  heard  the  coyotes  singing  back  their  long 
soft  call;  and  in  the  growing  light  they  discovered  an  In 
dian  tepee,  with  smoke  issuing  from  the  vent  hole.  Near 
by  was  a  rude  corral.  The  smoke  increased — then  grew 
less;  soon  sparks  flew  out;  the  light  in  the  sky  grew  brighter; 
the  music  of  the  coyotes  died  away;  and,  in  a  little  while, 
the  glory  of  the  sun  was  over  the  world. 

Now  they  saw  an  old  woman  go  forth  to  the  corral  and, 
following  her,  a  youth.  Unfastening  the  rude  gate,  they 
entered;  and  the  boy  presently  rode  forth  on  a  beautiful 
buckskin  pony,  well  made  and  spirited.  Yes,  the  very 
same  one  they  had  seen  on  the  race  track  at  Fort  Ryan. 
They  saw  him  ridden  to  water;  then,  after  a  short  canter, 
back  to  the  corral.  Here  they  watched  the  old  woman  rub 
and  scrub  him  down  from  head  to  foot,  while  the  boy 
brought  in  a  truss  of  very  good-looking  hay  from  some  hid 
den  supply.  The  old  woman  went  carefully  over  the 
bundle,  throwing  away  portions  of  it.  "She  throw  away 


RED  ROVER  187 

all  bad  medicine  plants,"  said  the  Crow.  After  half  an 
hour,  another  Indian  came  forth  from  the  lodge  and 
brought  a  bag  of  something  for  the  pony.  They  could  not 
see  what  it  was,  but  the  Crow  Indian  said  it  was  "white 
man's  corn,  the  little  sharp  kind  that  makes  a  horse's  legs 
move  very  fast." 

"Bedad,  there's  no  mistaking  that,"  said  Hartigan; 
"they're  training  on  oats;  an'  that  hay  is  too  green  for 
prairie  grass  and  not  green  enough  for  alfalfa.  I  wonder 
if  they  haven't  managed  to  get  some  timothy  for  their 
' hope  of  the  race!'" 

The  first  important  fact  was  that  the  cattlemen  had  dis 
covered  the  training  ground  of  the  Indian  racer;  the  second 
that  the  Red  men  were  neglecting  nothing  that  coulcl 
help  them  to  win.  Now  to  be  a  complete  story  of  a 
good  scouting,  these  watchers  should  have  stayed  there 
all  day,  to  see  what  the  Indian  methods  were;  but  that 
would  have  been  a  slow  job.  They  were  too  impatient 
to  wait.  It  was  clear,  anyway,  that  the  redskins  had 
adopted  all  they  could  learn  from  the  whites,  and  that  the 
buckskin  cayuse  was  no  mean  antagonist.  The  Crow 
scout  assured  them  that  every  morning,  an  hour  or  so  after 
eating,  the  pony  was  raced  up  to  "that  butte,  round  and 
back  here.  Then,  by  and  by,  sun  low,  go  again." 

So,  fully  informed,  the  white  spies  retired;  sneaked  back 
to  their  horses  and  in  less  than  two  hours  were  at  Fort 
Ryan. 

"Well,  Colonel,  we  sure  saw  the  whole  thing,"  said  Hart- 
igan.  "They  are  not  taking  any  chances  on  it.  'Tisn't 
much  of  a  stable — nary  a  shingle  overhead — but  they're 


1 88    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

surely  training  that  buckskin;  and  it's  hand-picked  hay 
they  give  him  and  sandpapered  oats,  worth  gold;  and  they 
don't  neglect  his  coat;  and  by  the  same  token  it's  out  for 
a  race  they  are." 

And  now  Kyle  unfolded  his  plan  to  the  Colonel.  It  was 
nothing  less  than  this:  to  send  a  half-breed  trader  to  the 
Indian  training  camp  with  a  supply  of  whiskey,  play  on  the 
weakness  of  the  Red  man  till  man,  woman  and  boy,  and 
others  if  there  were  any,  were  stupid  drunk;  then  have  Red 
Rover  brought  secretly,  and  at  dawn,  take  the  buckskin 
out  of  the  corral,  put  a  jockey  on  each,  develop  the  best 
speed  of  both  horses  around  the  Indian  training  track,  and 
so  get  an  absolute  gauge  to  guide  the  betting. 

At  first,  the  Colonel  demurred.  "Was  it  quite  honour 
able?" 

"Why  not?  Didn't  they  come  and  run  their  horse 
against  ours  in  a  trial,  right  here  on  the  garrison  track, 
without  asking  our  leave  ?  We  are  not  going  to  hurt  the 
pony  in  any  way." 

The  temptation  was  too  much  for  human  nature.  The 
Colonel  finally  agreed;  and  all  that  was  needed  was  the 
working  out  of  details.  Hartigan  was  eager  to  be  one  of 
the  jockeys.  "Sure  it  wasn't  a  real  race  in  the  sense  that 
stakes  were  up."  The  Colonel  shook  his  head.  "If  you 
were  about  one  hundred  pounds  lighter  we'd  be  glad  to 
have  you,  but  one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  is  too 
much  for  any  horse." 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  the  right  weight.  The 
cavalrymen  were  all  too  heavy;  but  an  odd  character 
had  turned  up,  the  second  son  of  an  English  baronet,  a 


RED  ROVER  189 

dissipated  youth,  barely  a  hundred  pounds  in  weight;  an 
agglomeration  of  most  weak  vices,  but  thin,  tough,  and  a 
born  and  trained  horseman.  He  was  selected  for  one,  and 
Little  Breeches,  a  cowboy  of  diminutive  proportions,  for 
the  other.  All  the  material  was  now  in  sight  for  the 
scheme. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
THE   SECRET  OF  YELLOWBANK  CANYON 

ECHAMREAU  was  of  French  and  Indian  blood, 
chiefly  Crow  Indian.  For  twenty  years  he  had 
been  trading  out  of  Pierre,  Dakota,  among  the 
western  tribes.  He  spoke  French  and  Crow  perfectly,  he 
knew  a  little  Sioux,  and  he  was  quite  proficient  in  the  uni 
versal  Sign  Language.  Lou  had  lost  money  on  the  July 
horse-race,  and  was  quite  ready  to  play  the  white  man's 
game. 

On  a  certain  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  August  the 
trader  might  have  been  seen  driving  a  very  rickety  wagon 
along  the  rough  trail  through  the  Badlands  twenty  miles 
to  the  eastward  of  Fort  Ryan.  Much  hard  luck  had  pur 
sued  him,  if  one  might  judge  by  the  appearance  of  his  out 
fit  and  from  his  story.  In  his  extremity  his  teamster  had 
left  him  and  he  was  travelling  alone.  It  was  just  as  he 
reached  the  boulder-strewn  descent  into  Yellowbank  Creek 
that  the  climax  came.  The  wagon  upset  and,  falling  some 
twenty  feet,  was  lodged  between  the  cutbanks  in  very  bad 
shape.  The  horses  were  saved  though  the  giving  way 
of  the  harness;  and  having  hobbled  and  turned  them  out  to 
graze,  Lou  mounted  a  butte  to  seek  for  sign  of  help. 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  west  now;  and  across  the  glowing 
sky  he  noted  a  thread  of  smoke.  Within  a  few  minutes  it 

190 


SECRET  OF  YELLOWBANK  CANYON      191 

had  been  his  guide  to  an  Indian  tepee — a  solitary  tepee 
in  this  lone  and  little-known  canyon  of  the  Yellowbank — 
and  entering,  he  recognized  an  old  acquaintance.  After 
sitting  and  smoking,  he  told  of  his  troubles  and  asked  the 
Red  man  to  come  and  help  get  the  wagon  out  of  the  gully. 

The  Indian  made  the  signs:   "Yes,  at  sunrise." 

Chamreau  smoked  for  a  time,  then  said:  "I'm  afraid  I'll 
lose  the  'fire  water'  in  that  keg.  It  may  be  leaking  under 
the  wagon."  To  which  the  Sioux  warrior  said: 

"Let  us  go  now." 

The  keg  was  found  intact,  and  to  obviate  all  risk,  was 
brought  to  the  Indian  camp.  Chamreau  deferred  opening 
it  as  long  as  he  could,  so  that  it  was  midnight  before  the 
"Cowboy's  delight"  was  handed  round,  and  by  three  or 
four  in  the  morning  the  camp  was  sunken  in  a  deadly 
stupor. 

According  to  the  plan,  Chamreau  was  to  take  a  brand 
from  the  lodge  and,  in  the  black  night  outside,  make  a 
vivid  zigzag  in  the  air  a  few  times,  when  his  plot  was 
obviously  a  success.  But  he  became  so  deeply  interested  in 
giving  realism  to  his  own  share  of  the  spree  that  he  forgot 
about  everything  else,  and  the  rest  of  the  scheme  was 
omitted,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned. 

But  with  the  dim  dawn  there  arrived  in  camp  a  couple 
of  horsemen,  one  an  Indian.  The  camp  was  dead.  With 
the  exception  of  a  dog  at  the  doorway  and  a  horse  in  the 
corral,  there  was  none  to  note  their  arrival.  The  dog 
growled,  barked  and  sneaked  aside.  The  Crow  Indian 
hurled  a  stone  with  such  accuracy  that  the  dog  accepted  the 
arrivals  as  lawful,  and  sat  down,  afar  off,  to  think  it  over. 


192    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

The  inmates  of  the  lodge;  man,  woman,  boy  and  Cham- 
reau,  were  insensible  and  would  evidently  remain  so  for 
many  hours.  The  Crow  Indian  and  Kyle  took  brands 
from  the  fire  and  made  vivid  lightnings  in  the  air.  Within 
ten  minutes,  a  group  of  horsemen  came  trampling  down 
the  slope  and  up  the  pleasant  valley  of  the  Yellowbank. 

It  was  not  without  some  twinges  of  conscience  that  Hart- 
igan  peeped  into  the  lodge  to  see  the  utterly  degrading 
stupefaction  of  the  poison,  but  he  was  alone  in  feeling  any 
thing  like  regret.  The  rest  of  the  party  were  given  over  to 
wild  hilarity.  At  once,  they  made  for  the  corral.  Yes, 
there  he  was,  really  a  fine  animal,  the  buckskin  cayuse  that 
had  proved  so  important.  And  there,  carefully  protected, 
was  a  lot  of  baled  timothy  hay  and  fine  oats,  brought  there 
at  great  cost.  It  is  not  often  that  a  lot  of  jockeys  and 
horsemen  are  so  careful  of  the  enemy's  mount.  They 
handled  that  buckskin  as  if  he  had  been  made  of  glass, 
they  watered  him,  they  groomed  him,  they  gave  him  a 
light  feed  and  walked  him  gently  up  and  down.  Then,  as 
the  sun  rose,  he  was  taken  for  a  short  canter. 

"He's  pretty  good,"  said  the  jockey  as  they  came  in, 
"but  nothing  wonderful  that  I  can  see." 

Meanwhile,  Red  Rover  was  also  watered,  fed,  rubbed 
down,  limbered  up,  and  after  every  loving,  horsewise  care 
was  spent  on  both  animals,  the  jockeys  were  given  their 
mounts  and  headed  for  the  starting  point  on  the  two-mile 
course. 

First  they  ambled  easily  around  the  track  to  study  the 
ground.  They  started  together  and  ran  neck  and  neck  for 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  then  pulled  rein,  as  this  was  a  mere 


SECRET  OF  YELLOWBANK  CANYON      193 

warm-up.  Then  they  returned  to  the  starting  post,  arid 
the  cowboy  jockey  on  the  buckskin  said :  "Well,  boys,  he's 
a  good  bronk,  but  I  don't  seem  to  feel  any  blood  in  him." 

At  the  signal,  they  went  off  together,  and  behind  them 
Captain  Wayne,  the  Preacher,  and  a  dozen  more  white 
men  who  were  interested.  These  onlookers  dropped  be 
hind  as  the  racers  went  at  high  speed,  but  the  view  was 
clear,  even  when  afar.  The  tall  sorrel  horse  was  a  little 
ahead,  but  the  buckskin  displayed  surprising  power  and 
speed.  At  the  turning  point  he  was  very  little  behind. 
And  now,  on  the  home  run,  was  to  be  the  real  trial.  Would 
the  bottom  of  the  prairie  pony  overmatch  the  legs  of  the 
blooded  horse? 

The  spectators  were  assembled  at  the  place  half  way 
down,  to  meet  them  coming  back,  and  follow  close  behind. 
It  grew  very  exciting  as  both  horses  developed  their  best 
speed,  and  as  they  came  to  the  winning  post,  it  was  clear  to 
all  that  the  buckskin  had  no  chance  in  a  fair  race  with  Red 
Rover.  It  was  incidentally  clear  to  Hartigan,  and  those 
near  by,  that  Red  Rover  had  no  chance  against  Blazing 
Star,  even  though  the  latter  bore  a  heavy  load;  but  that 
was  not  the  point  of  general  interest. 

The  serious  business  happily  done,  they  tenderly 
groomed  the  buckskin  and  returned  him  to  the  corral,  gave 
him  a  good  supply  of  hay  and  said  good-bye  to  the  drunken 
Indians,  the  two-faced  Chamreau,  and  the  glorious  Yellow- 
bank,  with  its  lonely  lodge,  its  strange  corral  and  its  growl- 
some  Indian  dog. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
PREPARING   FOR  THE   DAY 

THEY  were  a  merry  lot  that  galloped  back  to  Fort 
Ryan  that  morning,  and  a  still  merrier  crowd  that 
gathered  at  Cedar  Mountain,  when  it  was 
whispered  about  that  in  a  fair  and  square  try-out  the 
buckskin  cayuse  was  badly  beaten  by  Red  Rover.  The 
white  men  had  a  dead  sure  thing.  "Now  is  the  time,  boys, 
most  anything  you  like,  raise  money  anyhow,  you  can't  go 
wrong  on  this.  We've  got  the  wily  Red  men  skinned. 
Now  we'll  get  our  money  back  and  more."  "Of  course  it's 
fair,  anything's  fair  to  get  ahead  on  a  horse  race."  And 
as  the  tale  was  whispered  round,  it  grew  until  it  would  seem 
that  Red  Rover  had  cantered  in,  while  the  buckskin  strained 
himself  to  keep  within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  of  the  racer. 
So  the  gossip  went  and  one  serious  thing  resulted:  the 
training  slackened.  Why  bother  when  the  horse  was  going 
to  have  a  walk-over?  The  Colonel  was  too  much  en 
grossed  with  other  matters  to  do  more  than  give  good 
advice.  The  trainer's  laxity  pervaded  those  about  him, 
and  Red  Rover  was  let  down  with  all  the  rest.  When  they 
ran  out  of  baled  timothy  the  shortage  was  not  revealed  till 
it  occurred.  This  meant  a  week's  delay.  The  trainer, 
going  to  Cedar  Mountain  on  a  celebration,  left  an  under 
ling  in  charge  who  knew  no  better  than  to  stuff  the  horse 

194 


PREPARING  FOR  THE  DAY  195 

with  alfalfa  for  a  change,  and  a  slight  cold  was  the  result. 
What  the  Colonel  said  when  he  heard  of  it  was  not  couched 
in  departmental  phraseology. 

Gambling  has  always  been  a  racial  sin  of  the  Indian.  He 
did  not  drink  or  horse-race  or  torture  pioneers  till  the  white 
man  taught  him;  but  gamble  he  always  did.  And  under 
the  stimulus  of  great  excitement  and  new  stakes  the  habit 
became  a  craze.  Within  a  few  days,  Red  Cloud  appeared 
at  the  Fort  with  a  great  retinue,  a  whole  village  complete 
when  they  camped,  and  announced  that  he  and  his  people 
had  some  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  sight  to  stake  on  the 
race;  which,  of  course,  was  to  be  a  scratch  race  for  both. 
The  soldiers,  being  very  human,  raised  all  they  could — and 
much  that  they  couldn't,  really — to  cover  this  handsome 
sum.  Red  Cloud  then  returned  to  his  camp. 

The  next  day  he  was  back  to  say  that,  in  case  the  whites 
had  no  more  money  to  bet,  the  Indians  were  willing  to  bet 
horses  and  saddles,  goods,  etc.,  and  thereupon  a  new  craze 
possessed  them.  A  government  plough  was  wagered 
against  a  settler's  looking-glass,  a  hen  and  her  chickens 
against  a  buffalo  robe,  and  many  another  odd  combination. 
The  Indians  seemed  to  go  wild  on  the  issue.  At  last  the 
U.  S.  Indian  Agent  came  to  the  Colonel  to  protest. 

"Colonel,  I  can  manage  these  people  all  right  if  they  are 
let  alone,  but  this  horse  race  and  the  betting  are  upsetting 
everything.  I  suppose  you  have  a  dead  sure  thing  or  you 
wouldn't  be  so  reckless,  but  you  are  making  awful  trouble 
for  every  one  else,  and  I  wish  you'd  put  on  the  brakes." 

The  Colonel  either  could  not,  or  would  not;  for  the  ex 
citement  grew  as  the  day  came  near.  As  a  last  effort  the 


196    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Indian  agent,  one  of  the  few  who  were  conscientiously 
doing  their  best  for  the  Indians,  went  to  Red  Cloud  to  pro 
test  and  warn  him  that  the  whites  were  laying  a  trap  for  him 
and  his  people  and  would  clean  them  out  of  everything. 

Red  Cloud's  eyes  twinkled  as  he  said:  "Yes,  they  al 
ways  do." 

"I  mean  on  the  horse  race;  they  will  skin  you;  don't  you 
know  they've  had  your  horse  out  in  a  trial  race  with  theirs, 
and  that  it's  no  race  at  all?" 

Again  the  Chief's  eyes  lighted  up.  He  gave  a  little 
grunt  and  said.  "Mebbe  so." 

Hartigan  suffered  all  the  agonies  of  crucified  instincts  in 
this  excitement.  He  longed  to  be  in  everything,  to  bet  and 
forecast  and  play  the  game  with  them  all.  What  would 
he  not  have  given  to  be  the  selected  jockey,  to  smell  the 
hot  saddle  every  day,  to  hear  the  sweet  squeak  of  the 
leather  or  feel  the  mighty  shoulder  play  of  the  noble  racing 
beast  beneath  him.  But  such  things  were  not  for  him.  He 
was  shut  in,  as  never  monk  was  held,  from  earthly  joy;  not 
by  material  bars  and  walls,  but  by  his  duty  to  the  Church, 
by  his  word  as  a  man,  by  the  influence  of  Belle. 

She  trembled  in  her  thought  for  him  at  times,  his  racing 
blood  was  so  strong.  She  often  rode  by  his  side  to  Fort 
Ryan  and  watched  him  as  he  looked  on  at  the  training  of 
the  Rover.  His  every  remark  was  a  comment  of  the  con 
noisseur.  "Look  at  that,  look  at  that,  Belle.  That's 
right,  he  stopped  to  change  his  feet.  He's  a  jockey  all 
right.  He  ought  not  to  do  that  tap-tapping  with  the 
quirt — the  horse  doesn't  understand  it,  it  worries  him.  I 
don't  like  to  see  a  man  knee-pinch  a  horse  in  that  way; 


PREPARING  FOR  THE  DAY  197 

it  tells  on  a  two-mile  run.  He's  heavy-handed  on  the 
reins;  some  horses  need  it,  but  not  that  one,"  and  so  on 
without  pause. 

Never  once  did  his  conversation  turn  on  the  Church  or 
its  work;  and  Belle  was  puzzled  and  uneasy.  Then,  one 
day  when  she  and  Hartigan  were  to  have  ridden  out,  he 
sent  a  note  to  say  that  he  was  in  trouble.  Blazing  Star 
was  hurt.  Belle  went  at  once  to  the  stable  and  there  she 
found  the  Preacher  on  his  knees,  in  an  armless  old  under 
shirt,  rubbing  linament  on  to  some  slight  bump  on  Blazing 
Star's  nigh  hock.  A  sculptor  would  have  paused  to  gaze 
at  the  great  splendid  arms — clean  and  white  and  muscled 
like  Theseus — massive,  supple,  and  quick.  Hartigan  was 
very  serious. 

"I  don't  know  just  what  it  is,  Belle;  it  looks  like  a  puff, 
but  it  may  be  only  a  sting  or  a  bot.  Anyway,  I'm  afraid 
it's  rest  for  a  week  it  means,"  and  he  rubbed  and  rubbed 
the  embrocation  in  with  force,  while  Blazing  Star  looked 
back  with  liquid  eyes. 

This  seemed  like  a  misfortune,  but  it  proved  a  blessing, 
for  it  kept  Hartigan  out  of  the  racing  crowd  for  a  week  at  a 
time  when  he  was  skating  on  ice  that  was  very,  very  thin. 

As  Saturday  came,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jebb  received  an  un 
expected  call  from  a  very  regular  caller — the  Rev.  James 
Hartigan — to  ask  if  Dr.  Jebb  would  kindly  take  both  ser 
mons  on  Sunday  next.  Blazing  Star  had  a  puff  on  his 
nigh  hock,  inside,  a  little  above  the  leg-wart;  it  might  not 
amount  to  much,  but  it  required  a  good  deal  of  attention 
every  few  hours,  both  day  and  night,  to  prevent  the  possi 
bility  of  its  becoming  serious  from  neglect. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
THE   START 

SEPTEMBER  came,  with  all  the  multiplied  glories 
of  the  Black  Hills — calm,  beautiful  weather  in  a 
calm  and  beautiful  country.  For  days  back,  there 
had  been  long  strings  of  Indians,  with  their  families  and 
camp  outfits,  moving  down  the  trail  between  the  hills, 
bound  all  for  the  great  raceground  at  Fort  Ryan.  Lodges 
were  set  up  every  day.  Each  of  the  half-dozen  tribes 
formed  its  own  group.  Ranchmen  came  riding  in,  followed 
by  prairie  schooners  or  round-up  wagons,  for  their  camps; 
motley  nondescripts  from  Deadwood  and  places  round 
about.  There  were  even  folk  from  Bismarck  and  Pierre 
and,  of  course,  all  Cedar  Mountain  and  the  soldiers  from 
the  Fort. 

"Sure,  I  didn't  know  there  were  so  many  people,"  was 
Hartigan's  remark  to  Belle,  as  they  rode  on  the  morning  of 
the  fifteenth  about  the  camp  with  its  different  kinds  of 
life.  Then,  after  a  long  pause  and  gaze  around,  he  added, 
in  self-examining  tone:  "Faith,  Belle,  it  seems  to  me  that, 
being  a  Preacher,  I  ought  to  get  up  and  denounce  the 
whole  thing,  preach  right  now  and  evermore  against  it,  and 
do  all  I  can  to  stop  it,  but — heaven  help  me  if  I  am  a 
hypocrite — I  don't  feel  that  way  at  all;  I  just  love  it,  I  love 
to  see  all  these  people  here,  I  love  to  see  the  horses,  and  I 

198 


THE  START  199 

wouldn't  miss  that  race  if  it  were  the  last  thing  on  earth  I 
was  to  look  on.  Oh,  I  haven't  been  betting,  Belle,"  he 
hastened  to  explain  as  he  saw  the  look  of  dread  on  her 
face.  "  I've  kept  clear  of  it  all,  but  God  only  knows  what  it 


means  to  me." 


"Never  fear,  Belle,"  he  went  on,  "I  won't  ride  in  a  race, 
I  won't  bet;  I've  given  my  word." 

*'0h,  Jim,  you  are  a  riddle;  you  are  not  one,  you  are  two 
men;  and  they  fight  the  whole  time.  But  I  know  the  wiser 
one  is  winning  and  I  think  the  best  friend  you  ever  had  was 
that  big  fellow  that  threatened  you  with  the  'bone-rot'  if 
ever  you  broke  your  word.  I  believe  in  you  more  and 
more,"  and  impulsively  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  with  a 
warmth  that  provoked  such  instant  response  that  she 
smote  her  horse  and  swung  away — fearful  of  a  situation 
for  which  she  was  not  ready. 

At  three  o'clock,  an  officer  from  the  Fort  rode  over  to 
Red  Cloud's  lodge  and  notified  him  that  in  one  hour  the 
race  was  to  begin.  The  War-chief  grunted. 

At  four,  the  crowd  was  dense  around  the  track,  and  the 
country  near  seemed  quite  deserted.  Near  the  starting 
post,  which  was  also  the  finish,  were  a  huge  crowd  and  a 
small  army  of  mounted  men.  Suddenly  shots  were  heard, 
and  a  great  shout  went  up  from  the  Indian  camp;  then 
forth  came  Red  Cloud,  in  all  his  war  paint  and  eagle 
feathers,  followed  by  other  warriors;  and  carefully  led  in 
the  middle  of  the  procession  was  the  famous  buckskin 
cayuse,  sleek,  clean-limbed,  but  decorated  with  eagle 
feathers  in  mane  and  tail,  with  furry  danglers  on  his  fet 
locks  and  a  large  red  hand  painted  on  each  shoulder  and 


200   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

hip.  He  had  no  saddle  and  was  led  with  an  ordinary 
hackima  of  hair  rope  around  his  lower  jaw.  He  walked 
alertly  and  proudly,  but  showed  no  unusual  evidence  of 
pace  or  fire. 

Then  a  cannon  boomed  at  the  Fort,  and  from  the  gate 
there  issued  another  procession,  soldiers  chiefly,  following 
their  Colonel.  First  among  them  came  a  bugler,  the 
officers,  then  next  a  trooper,  leading  the  white  hope — the 
precious  Red  Rover.  His  groomed  and  glossy  coat  was 
shining  in  the  sun;  his  life  and  power  were  shown  in  every 
movement  as  he  pranced  at  times,  in  spite  of  the  continual 
restraint  of  his  trainer,  who  was  leading  him.  On  the 
other  side,  rode  Peaches,  the  little  English  jockey.  It  was 
a  bitter  pill  to  the  Americans  that  they  should  have  to  trust 
their  fortunes  to  an  English  rider,  but  all  their  men  were  too 
heavy,  except  Little  Breeches,  and,  he,  alas,  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  whiskey  mongers.  The  ladies  of  the  gar 
rison  rode  close  behind;  and  last,  came  the  regimental 
band,  in  full  thump  and  blare.  As  they  neared  the  start 
ing  post,  the  band  was  hushed  and  the  bugle  blew  a  fan 
fare;  then,  with  the  Colonel  leading,  the  racer  was  taken  to 
the  starting  post. 

Red  Cloud  was  there  calmly  waiting  with  his  counsellors 
and  braves  and  the  buckskin  cayuse. 

"Are  you  ready?"  shouted  Colonel  Waller. 

"Ho,"  said  Red  Cloud,  and  with  an  imperious  wave  of 
his  hand  he  indicated  "Go  ahead!" 

The  light  racing  pad  was  put  on  Red  Rover,  the  jockey 
mounted  and  rode  him  at  a  canter  for  a  hundred  yards  and 
back,  amid  an  outburst  of  applause  as  the  splendid  crea- 


THE  START  201 

ture  showed  his  pace.  Then  the  groom  approached  and 
tightened  the  cinch. 

The  buckskin  cayuse  was  brought  to  the  front.  Red 
Cloud  made  a  gesture.  A  sixteen-year-old  boy,  armed 
with  a  quirt,  appeared;  an  Indian  gave  him  a  leg  up,  and, 
naked  to  the  breech  clout  on  the  naked  horse,  he  sat  like  a 
statue.  Jim  got  a  strange  thrill  as  he  recognized  him  for 
the  vigil-keeper  of  Cedar  Mountain. 

"Well,"  grumbled  the  Colonel,  as  he  noted  the  jockey, 
"that's  a  twenty-five  pound  handicap  on  us,  but  I  guess 
we  can  stand  it."  Yet,  when  they  saw  the  two  horses  to 
gether,  there  was  less  disparity  in  size  than  they  had  sup 
posed.  But  there  was  something  about  the  buckskin  that 
caught  Hartigan's  eye  and  made  him  remark:  "It  isn't 
going  to  be  such  a  walk-over  as  our  fellows  think."  And 
the  trainer  of  Red  Rover,  as  he  noted  the  round  barrel, 
clean  limbs,  and  flaring  nostrils  of  the  buckskin,  had  for  a 
moment  just  a  guilty  twinge  as  he  recalled  how  lax  he  had 
been  in  the  training  after  that  run  at  Yellowbank  Canyon. 

But  all  was  ready.  The  white  men  won  the  toss  for 
choice  and  got  the  inside  track;  not  that  it  mattered  very 
much,  except  at  the  turn.  The  crowd  was  sent  back  to  the 
lines,  the  riders  held  the  racers  to  the  scratch  and,  at  a 
pistol  crack,  they  bounded  away. 

Those  that  expected  to  see  something  spectacular  at  the 
start  were  disappointed.  The  English  jockey  leaned  for 
ward,  touched  Red  Rover  with  his  whip,  and  alongside  the 
Indian  boy  on  the  buckskin  did  the  very  same  thing.  The 
Indian  boy  smiled  and  the  Englishman  responded,  but  in  a 
superior  way.  He  felt  it  was  almost  unfair  to  run  against 


202    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

such  a  child,  and  in  such  a  race,  which  wasn't  a  real  race  at 
all,  in  spite  of  the  heavy  stakes. 

Thus  they  rode  side  by  side  at  a  good  pace  for  half  a 
mile,  during  which  the  buckskin  drifted  behind  a  little, 
now  a  length,  now  a  length  and  a  half.  Next  the  copper- 
coloured  jockey  touched  him  up  and,  before  the  white  man 
knew  it,  the  bounding  buckskin  closed  again  and  came 
right  up,  but  now  on  the  inside  track.  If  the  Englishman 
had  not  felt  so  confident,  he  would  have  stopped  this  well- 
known  trick.  It  might  not  have  been  easy,  since  there 
were  no  lines  or  posts  except  the  turning  point,  but  it  could 
have  been  prevented  by  deft  manoeuvring.  However,  the 
Indian  was  now  abreast  on  the  inside  and  as  the  Englishman 
watched  him  he  concluded  that  this  child  of  nature  was  not 
so  simple  as  he  looked.  He  comforted  himself  with  the 
thought  that  the  other  would  need  all  he  could  get  out  of 
jockeying. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
THE   FINISH 

THE  first  mile  was  covered  in  good,  but  not  remark 
able  time.  Then  they  came  to  the  turning  point. 
There  was  just  the  chance  of  changing  places  here, 
for  the  inner  horse  had  the  disadvantage  of  the  sharper 
turn,  but  the  Indian  boy  made  sure  by  dropping  back  a 
half  length  and  the  turn  was  made  without  a  reverse. 
After  them  now  with  shouts  of  joy  went  all  the  mounted 
men  who  had  been  waiting  and  rode  in  a  thundering  charge, 
yelling  and  cheering.  The  white  jockey  knew  now  that  he 
was  not  dealing  with  a  fool.  The  red  boy,  though  not  so  well 
mounted,  was  just  as  good  a  rider  as  himself,  and  twenty 
pounds  lighter,  besides  being  without  leathers,  which 
raised  the  handicap  to  fully  twenty-five  pounds.  In  that 
first  half  mile  on  the  home  stretch  the  buckskin  still  was 
head  and  neck  behind.  Then  the  riders  put  forth  all  their 
skill  and  each  did  his  best  to  call  forth  every  ounce  of 
strength  and  every  spurt  of  speed  in  his  mount. 

The  Indian  boy  let  off  his  native  yell  and  cried:  "Ho, 
Huya — Huya — Huya!"  and  the  keen  quirt  flashed  and 
the  buckskin  flew. 

"Ho,  Rover!  good  boy,  git,  git!"  and  the  white  man 
smote  the  shining  flank;  and  both  the  noble  brutes  re 
sponded  as  they  had  not  done  before.  The  sense  of  play 

203 


204    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

was  gone.  It  was  now  the  real  and  desperate  race.  The 
gazing  thousands  ranged  about  knew  that,  and  the  mingled 
roar  of  all  their  voices  rose  to  a  mighty  booming  sound. 

"  Ho,  Rover !     Run,  boy,  run ! " 

"Huya,  Shunguna,  Ho!  Ho!  Yeh!  Yeh!  Yeh!" 
and  the  redskin  rider  smote  hard  those  heaving  flanks. 

Flash,  flash,  those  shadowy  hoofs;  thud,  thud,  upon  the 
plain;  the  buckskin's  neck  forged  slowly  on,  now  lapped 
the  red-gold  shoulder  of  his  foe.  The  redskin  shrieked, 
the  riding  mob  behind  gave  voice  and  rode  like  madmen. 
The  racers  plunged  and  plunged,  the  riders  lay  down  al 
most  to  their  necks,  plying  their  quirts  and  shouting  words 
of  urge. 

The  buckskin  still  won  inches  on  the  race,  but  the  Rover 
led.  The  last,  the  final  furlong  was  at  hand.  The  riders 
yelled,  the  rabble  yelled,  guns  were  fired  in  mad  excite 
ment,  and  all  restraint  was  gone.  It  was  win — win — burst 
— die — but  win!  And  never  jockeys  harder  rode  and 
never  horses  better  ran;  the  test  was  fair.  Red  Rover  did 
his  best,  yet  his  rival's  legs  in  that  last  spurt  moved  as  a 
rabbit's  legs,  a  maze  of  shadowy  pounding  limbs,  and — 
sickening  sight — the  buckskin  with  the  copper  rider 
forged  still  more  ahead — a  neck,  half  a  length  ahead — and 
the  race  was  won. 

Peaches  was  in  tears.  "Colonel/'  he  said,  in  a  broken 
voice,  "it  was  that  twenty-five  pound  handicap  did  it;  it 
wasn't  fair." 

The  Colonel  growled  something  about  "  a  lot  of  fools  to 
let  up  on  the  training  after  that  Yellowbank  trial." 


THE  FINISH  205 

Hartigan  was  standing  near;  gloomy,  but  not  so  gloomy 
as  the  rest;  and  when  there  came  a  chance  to  be  heard,  he 
said :  "Colonel,  once  I  see  a  horse  close  to,  in  fair  daylight, 
I  can  always  remember  him  afterward.  I've  been  looking 
over  their  buckskin  cayuse,  and  it's  not  the  same  one  we 
raced  in  the  Yellowbank." 

The  Colonel  turned  quickly  around.  "Are  you 
sure?" 

"Absolutely  certain,"  was  the  answer. 

"My  goodness — you  are  right.  I  distrusted  the  whole 
business  from  the  start.  You  are  right;  they  fooled  us  on  a 
stool-pigeon;  this  whole  thing  was  a  put-up  job.  The 
simple  Red  man!" 


The  "perchers"  were  gathered  at  the  blacksmith  shop 
next  afternoon.  "Well,"  said  Shives,  "I've  done  fifteen 
dollars'  worth  of  work  to-day  and  haven't  taken  in  a  cent." 
The  audience  grunted  and  he  went  on.  "Every  tap  of  it 
was  for  broken-down  bums  trying  to  get  out  of  town — 
skinned  by  the  simple  Red  man.  Horses  shod,  tires  set, 
bolts  fixed,  all  kinds  of  cripplements.  All  they  want  is  help 
to  get  out,  get  out;  at  any  price  get  out.  Well,  it'll  do 
you  good,  the  whole  caboodle  of  ye.  Ye  started  out  to  do, 
and  got  done — everlastingly  soaked."  The  blacksmith 
chuckled.  "Serve  you  all  right.  I'm  glad  ye  got  it." 

As  Hartigan  appeared,  swinging  a  big  stick  and  singing 
"The  Wearing  of  the  Green,"  Shives  asked:  "Well,  Jim, 
how  much  did  you  lose  ? " 

"Nothing,"  sang  Hartigan  cheerfully;  "I  don't  bet"; 


206   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

and  he  went  on  singing,  "'Tis  the  most  distressful  country 
this  that  ever  yet  was  seen." 

"Lucky  dog!  All  the  sports  round  this  neck  o'  the 
woods  are  ruined.  They  say  no  gentleman  will  bet  on  a 
sure  thing.  H'm,  maybe  not.  Well,  fellows,  cheer  up; 
no  man  ever  yet  was  made,  until  he  had  been  ruined  a 
couple  of  times;  and  all  I  hope  is  that  the  Reds  will  get  up 
another  race  and  soak  ye  to  the  limit.  Then  maybe  some 
o'  ye  will  brace  up  and  be  men;  but  I  dunno." 

"Guess  they've  soaked  us  to  the  limit  now,"  was  the 
general  voice  of  those  assembled. 

Poor  Higginbotham  had  gone  in  rather  strong  for  him,  in 
spite  of  his  wife,  and  there  was  no  blue  sky  in  his  world,  or 
prospect  of  it. 

Then  they  turned  on  Hartigan,  who  was  going  through 
the  movements  of  singlestick,  on  the  open  floor.  "Was 
he  white,  or  wasn't  he?  How  could  he  stand  by  and  see 
the  whole  settlement  skinned  alive  by  Red  Injins  when  he 
had  the  game  in  his  own  hands?  Why  didn't  he  enter 
Blazing  Star  ?  He  didn't  seem  to  take  much  interest  in  the 
affair,  probably  he  wanted  the  Red  skins  to  win."  The 
jibe  stung  Jim  to  the  quick;  he  ceased  his  exuberant  ex 
ercise;  the  song  died  on  his  lips,  and  he  strode  away  in 
silence. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
THE    RIDERS 

IT  IS  the  continual  boast  of  the  cowboys  that  they  are  the 
best  riders  on  earth.  It  is  the  continual  boast  also  of 
Cossack,  Boer,  Australian,  Gaucho,  and  all  who  live  on 
and  by  the  horse.  And  when  we  sift  the  claim  of  each  of 
those  named  we  find  that  is  is  founded  wholly  on  this,  that 
they  can  sit  on  the  back  of  any  steed,  however  wild,  and  defy 
all  its  efforts  to  dislodge  them.  All  their  standards  are  de 
signed  to  show  the^power  of  the  man  to  overpower  the  horse. 
But  there  is  one  very  large  consideration  that  seems  not  to 
enter  their  consciousness  at  all,  and  that  is  how  to  get  the 
best  out  of  the  horse — to  develop  and  utilize,  not  crush 
its  power.  We  undoubtedly  find  this  idea  best  established 
in  the  riding  schools  of  Europe.  In  these  grammar 
schools  violence  is  forbidden,  almost  unknown.  For  a  man 
to  fight  with  his  horse  would  be  a  disgrace;  to  abuse  or 
over-ride  him — a  shame;  to  lade  him  with  a  three-pound 
bit  and  a  thirty-pound  saddle — a  confession  of  inability 
to  control  or  stay  on.  In  every  part  of  the  world  where 
the  horse  has  been  developed,  it  has  been  in  exact  ratio 
with  the  creed  of  the  riding  schools.  No  one  that  has  seen 
both  classes  of  riders  can  have  a  doubt  that  the  best  horse 
men  in  the  world  are  those  of  Europe,  who  control  the 
horse  with  skill — not  brute  force.  The  cowboys  are  mere 
broncho-busters. 

207 


208    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Hartigan  had  gathered  not  a  little  of  true  horse  learning 
in  his  early  days,  and  he  was  disgusted  now  to  see  how 
lightly  and  cheaply  the  westerner  held  his  horse.  "Break 
him  down  and  get  another"  was  the  method  in  vogue;  and 
the  test  of  a  rider  was,  "Can  he  ride  a  horse  to  death?" 
The  thirty-pound  saddle  used  was  an  evidence  of  the  in 
tent  and  a  guarantee  of  the  result.  As  soon  as  he  could 
afford  it,  Jim  sent  back  to  Chicago  for  an  English  pad,  the 
kind  he  was  used  to,  and  thus  he  cut  his  riding  weight  down 
by  nearly  twenty  pounds.  Then  there  arrived  at  Fort 
Ryan  a  travelling  inspector,  who  spent  a  month  teaching 
the  men  the  latest  ideas  in  the  care  of  horses.  Among  the 
tricks  was  the  "flat  ambush."  This  is  how  it  is  done: 
With  reins  in  the  left  hand,  and  that  hand  in  the  mane 
at  the  withers,  you  stand  at  the  nigh  shoulder;  lift  the  nigh 
front  foot  in  your  right  hand  till  the  hoof  is  near  the  horse's 
elbow;  pull  the  horse  toward  you  with  the  left  hand  in  the 
mane;  talk  gently ;  pull,  and  press.  If  your  horse  trusts  you, 
he  will  gradually  bend  over  toward  you;lower  hisbody  to  the 
ground;  and  at  last  lie  flat,  head  and  all,  with  the  animal's 
legs  away  from  you.  Behind  the  horse's  body  the  rifleman 
may  squat,  shoot  from  cover,  and  have  an  ample  breast 
work  if  the  animal  is  trained  to  "stand  the  gun."  It  is  a 
pretty  trick,  though  of  less  practical  use  than  was  expected. 
It  is,  however,  a  quick  measure  of  the  horse's  confidence  in 
the  rider;  and  it  speaks  well  for  the  99th  Cavalry  that  more 
than  half  the  horses  learned  it  in  a  week.  This  was  a  new 
game  to  Hartigan,  and  he  found  a  fresh  joy  in  it  as  an  ex 
cuse  for  fussing  around  the  stable  and  playing  with  his 
horse. 


THE  RIDERS  209 

October  came  in  with  glory  on  the  hills.  The  plains 
were  golden  in  their  autumn  grass,  and  on  a  wonderful 
day  in  the  early  part  of  the  month  Hartigan  and  Belle 
went  riding  down  the  canyon. 

Belle  had  a  scheme  for  coordinating  their  church  work 
with  that  of  the  Baptists  and  Presbyterians,  both  repre 
sented  now  in  their  town  of  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants. 
But  before  she  could  get  it  laid  before  Jim,  he  was  extolling 
the  quick  responsiveness  of  Blazing  Star,  and  must  needs 
demonstrate  the  latest  accomplishment  the  horse  had 
learned.  That  over,  Belle  resurrected  her  plan;  but  a 
gunshot  at  Fort  Ryan  switched  the  current  of  his  thoughts 
to  the  eventful  race. 

Belle  changed  the  subject  and  unfolded  a  scheme  for 
getting  all  the  Bylow  children  into  the  Cedar  Mountain 
school  the  coming  winter.  They  had  just  come  to  a  little 
twelve-foot  cut-bank  gully,  and  Jim  exclaimed:  "Now, 
Belle,  just  watch  him  take  it,"  and  over  they  sailed,  the 
perfection  of  grace.  "I  tell  you,  Belle/'  he  went  on,  "it 
was  a  great  idea  to  get  that  eastern  pad.  Fve  cut  down 
my  riding  weight  nearly  twenty  pounds  by  dropping  all 
that  gear.  Blazing  Star  can  clear  six  inches  higher  and  go 
a  foot  farther  in  a  jump,  and  I'll  bet  it  gives  him  one 
hundred  feet  in  a  mile  run." 

Again  Belle  harked  back  to  the  school  project.  "It  could 
be  done  for  half  the  teacher's  salary  and  every  one  of  the 
neglected  children  might  get  a  chance.  It  all  depends  on 
the  attitude  that  School  Trustee  Higginbotham  takes. 
My  idea  is  to  approach  him  through  Hannah.  She  has  a 
mighty  level  head,  and  if  you  and  Dr.  Jebb " 


210   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Oh!  look  at  this  coyote!"  ejaculated  Hartigan.  "I 
must  give  him  a  run";  and  away  he  went.  For  half  a 
mile  there  was  an  open  flat,  and  the  superior  speed  of  the 
horse  reduced  the  distance,  at  a  very  rapid  rate.  But  the 
coyote  reached  a  gully  and  disappeared  with  the  quickness 
and  cleverness  of  its  race.  Hartigan  came  galloping  back. 

Belle  was  looking  amused  and  also  worried.  "  Oh,  Jim," 
she  said,  "I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  with  you. 
You  won't  talk  Church,  you  won't  talk  school,  you  won't 
talk  shop.  All  your  thoughts  are  centred  on  horses,  hunt 
ing — and  coyotes,"  she  added  with  a  laugh. 

"Sure,  Belle,  I  never  see  a  coyote  run  without  thinking 
of  a  night  I  spent  on  the  Cheyenne,  when  that  puling  little 
English  lord  spent  the  whole  night  shivering  up  a  tree,  to 
hear  me  and  Little  Breeches  snoring  on  the  ground  and  he 
thought  it  was  wolves  eating  us  up,  because  a  little  while 

before  a  coyote  yelled  in  the  bushes "  and  again  he  was 

off  in  a  racy  account  of  those  thrilling  moments. 

"Jim,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  say  nothing  but  fyes> 
and  'no'  for  a  while,  until  you  exhaust  all  your  horse  talk. 
Then  I  am  going  to  make  one  more  effort." 

"A  jack  rabbit,  by  the  powers!"  Sure  enough,  a  big 
white  jack  leaped  up  and  darted  away.  A  jack  is  speedier 
than  a  coyote,  so  Hartigan  could  not  resist.  "  Hi,  Hi,  Hi ! " 
he  shouted  to  Blazing  Star;  and  with  flat  hand  on  the 
croup,  he  raised  the  speed  to  top  gear  in  a  few  jumps. 

It  was  a  fair  sight  to  behold,  and  to  many  a  cow-man 
it  would  have  been  information.  The  jack  rabbit,  next  to 
the  antelope,  is  the  speediest  quadruped  on  the  plains. 
The  cowboy  does  not  try  to  follow  the  jack  rabbit,  but  the 


THE  RIDERS  211 

blooded  racer  did.  In  a  quarter  of  a  mile  the  horse  was 
nearly  on  him.  He  dodged  like  chain  lightning — dodged 
as  his  life  had  taught  him  to  dodge  before  the  coyote  and 
the  hawk.  The  horse  slowed  up;  the  rabbit  crossed  a 
ridge;  and  when  the  rider  reined  upon  the  top,  the  jack  was 
no  more  seen. 

But  just  ahead  was  a  finer  sight.  A  band  of  antelope 
sprang  forward  with  their  white  sterns  shining.  Of  all 
the  quadrupeds  on  the  Plains,  the  antelope  is  the  speediest. 
The  greyhound  can  catch  the  hare;  but  is  left  a  hopeless 
laggard  by  the  swift-footed  courser.  No  mounted  Indian 
ever  dreamed  of  overtaking  the  antelope  in  open  chase. 
In  speed  it  stands  the  highest  in  the  West.  Jim  had  often 
wished  to  match  his  steed  against  these  plains-born  cour 
sers;  but,  hitherto,  although  antelope  were  often  seen, 
they  were  protected  by  rough  gullies  or  boulders  or  badger 
holes.  A  band  of  antelope  on  a  level,  open  stretch  was  a 
glorious  chance. 

Bending  low  over  his  horse's  neck,  he  shouted:  "Now, 
Blazing  Star,  go  it;  ho!  boy,  go  it!"  and  struck  the  flank 
behind  for  clear  interpretation.  The  horse  sprang  forth  at 
speed.  The  bounding  wild  things,  just  ahead,  laid  back 
their  ears  and  went  so  fast  that  not  a  leg  was  seen,  only  a 
whizzing,  blurred  maze.  And  Blazing  Star  took  in  the 
thought  and  travelled  faster  and  faster.  The  furlong 
start  they  had  began  to  shrink. 

"Good  boy!"  the  rider  shouted  in  elation.  "Go  it!  go 
it,  Blazing  Star!"  The  antelope  spurted — for  a  moment 
held  their  own;  then,  weakening  at  a  mile,  they  lost  so  fast 
that  Jim  yelled  and  swung  his  hat,  and  in  a  little  more  the 


212    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

herd  was  overtaken.  Fear  seemed  to  rob  them  of  power 
as  Blazing  Star  dashed  in  among  them.  The  bright-eyed 
pronghorns  swerved;  and  the  band  split  wide,  and  the 
horse  dashed  through.  As  he  wheeled  and  galloped 
back,  he  shouted:  "You  saw  that,  Belle?  You  saw 
it?  It  has  never  been  done  before.  In  a  fair  race,  on 
open  stretch,  they  had  two  hundred  yards'  start  and  I 
caught  them  in  a  mile.  Now  I  know  what  Blazing  Star  is. 
No  creature  on  legs  can  beat  him;  no  horse  in  the  West  can 
match  him." 

In  a  little  while  the  riders  turned  again  to  Cedar  Mount 
ain.  Hartigan  led  the  way — and  the  talk.  It  was  a 
stirring  ride,  but  Belle's  face  wore  a  worried  look  when  he 
left  her. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
THE   FIRE 

EVERY  new  town  in  America  has  the  same  set 
routine  of  experience.     It   springs    up  on    land 
selected  and  laid  out  by  a  real  estate  speculator. 
The  flimsiest  and  most  combustible  of  buildings  are  rushed 
up.     When  the  town  has  about  five  thousand  inhabitants 
and  these  fire-trap  buildings  are  close  enough  to  burn  one 
another,  a  fire  breaks  out  and  sweeps  the  whole  thing  away, 
destroying  human  lives,  valuable  stock,  and  priceless  rec 
ords;  after  which  begins  the  epoch  of  brick  buildings  and 
fire  prevention. 

Cedar  Mountain  had  not  reached  the  size  or  compactness 
required  for  the  wipe-out  when  its  baptism  of  fire  took  place. 
Hartigan  was  roused  in  the  night  by  a  noise  outside.  Going 
to  the  window,  he  saw  the  sky  filled  with  the  glare  of  fire. 
As  quickly  as  possible,  he  dressed  and  ran  forth,  becoming 
deeply  agitated  when  he  found  that  the  fire  was  in  the  hotel 
whose  stable  housed  Blazing  Star.  It  was  with  a  dreadful 
heartsink  that  he  ran  there.  The  stable  was  smoking,  but 
not  yet  afire,  and,  with  a  thankful  heart,  he  hurried  Blaz 
ing  Star  forth,  got  him  away  to  a  safe  place,  and  returned 
just  in  time  to  see  the  stable  and  all  its  immovable  con 
tents  go  up  in  a  ruddy  roar  as  the  hay  and  straw  took 
fire. 

213 


2i4    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

There  were  no  human  lives  lost;  nor  any  dwellings  other 
than  the  hotel — for  there  was  a  clear  space  around  that 
fire-trap  and  there  had  been  no  wind — but  it  was  a  valid 
baptism  of  fire.  It  resulted  in  the  organization  of  a  Vol 
unteer  Fire  Brigade,  and  it  also  resulted  in  Hartigan's 
determination  to  erect  a  stable  of  his  own,  where  he  could 
have  his  horse  under  his  eye,  day  and  night.  What  he 
built  was  not  a  large  stable,  only  ten  by  twelve  feet,  of 
rough  pine  lumber,  with  tar-paper  weather-proofing  and 
no  floor,  but  he  did  it  entirely  with  his  own  hands  at  a 
material  cost  of  twelve  dollars;  and  he  put  his  soul  into  it. 
There  were  two  stalls,  one  for  Blazing  Star  and  one  for 
supplies.  There  was  much  good-humoured  jesting  at  the 
"Horse  Preacher"  while  the  stable  was  building  and  the 
story  went  the  rounds  that  he  often  used  the  empty  stall 
for  a  study,  in  preference  to  the  silent  little  room  in  the 
house.  In  any  case,  he  hand-picked  the  hay  to  guard 
against  the  poisonous  loco-weed,  and  washed  the  oats,  to 
shut  out  any  possibility  of  smut. 

Immediately  after  the  fire  Higginbotham  began  to  talk 
business  to  Jim.  A  mutual  affection  had  grown  up  and  the 
little  agent  and  his  wife  had  early  become  prominent  in  the 
church.  As  deacon,  Higginbotham  rendered  good  service, 
although  it  was  noted  that  his  judgment  was  always  best 
after  he  had  talked  matters  over  at  home.  He  was  not 
averse  to  using  his  church  connection  for  business  purposes. 
In  fact,  he  had  been  heard  to  say  that  the  Church  itself  was 
chiefly  a  huge  fire  insurance  company,  taking  risks  for  the 
next  world  instead  of  this.  On  the  morning  after  the  fire, 
he  was  up  betimes  to  sail  with  the  wind,  to  take  advantage 


THE  FIRE  215 

of  the  stir-up  that  the  public  mind  had  got;  and  he  secured 
a  lot  of  new  business. 

"Now,  Mr.  Hartigan,  why  don't  you  insure  that  horse  of 
yours?  Just  think  where  you  would  have  been  if  you 
hadn't  got  him  out  in  time  last  night.  Why,  I  knew  a  man 
who  bought  a  horse  for  fifty  dollars  in  the  morning,  insured 
him  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  at  noon,  and  next 
night  he  was  burnt  up.  The  very  next  day  he  got  his  check 
for  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  That's  the  way  our 
company  does  business;  all  in  twenty-four  hours." 

The  idea  of  a  joyful  profit  out  of  Blazing  Star's  inciner 
ated  remains  was  distinctly  unpleasant,  much  like  asking 
a  mother  to  realize  on  her  baby,  and  Hartigan  took  out  no 
policy,  but  it  had  the  effect  of  making  him  try  to  set  a  mar 
ket  value  on  the  horse. 

It  was  late  in  the  season  now,  October  was  nearly  gone; 
but  still  he  and  Belle  rode  forth  together. 

"What  is  next  Sunday's  lesson?"  was  Belle's  very  usual 
question.  "Well,"  said  Hartigan,  "I  came  across  a  text 
that  filled  me  with  joy.  'When  Amaziah,  King  of  Judah, 
was  murdered/  it  says,  'They  brought  him  upon 
horses  and  buried  him  with  his  fathers  in  the  city  of 
Judah.' 

"Brought  him  on  horses.  What  a  picture,  Belle!  Just 
think  of  that  royal  stiff  strapped  square  across  the 
backs  of  four  fine  horses,  all  bridled  together,  and  then 
driven  madly  across  the  desert,  through  the  land  of  the 
freebooting  Arabs,  who  would  be  more  than  apt  to  seize 
the  corpse  and  hold  it  for  a  ransom.  What  a  race!  You 
bet  they  had  horses  then!  They  were  Arab  stock  all  right. 


2i6   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

I  wonder  no  artist  ever  put  that  royal  funeral  on  canvas. 
How  does  it  strike  you,  Belle?'* 

"Wild  enough  and  picturesque  enough  for  the  Black 
Hills;  but  I  don't  seem  to  get  the  lesson,  I  might  almost 
add  another  text  to  your  list:  *A  horse  is  a  vain  thing  for 
safety."  Then,  suddenly,  she  said:  "Have  you  seen 
Colonel  Waller  lately?" 

"No." 

"Is  it  too  far  to  ride  there ?'* 

"Not  if  you  can  stand  it." 

"I  can;  but  I  wish  you'd  tighten  my  cinch." 

Jim  was  well  pleased  to  be  her  groom;  and,  hauling  on 
the  strap,  his  hat  tipped  off  and  his  head  touched  her  knee, 
she  laid  her  hand  on  his  head  and  a  thrill  went  through  him. 
Belle  knew  the  game  and  the  risks,  in  spite  of  her  very  old- 
fashioned  parents.  All  along,  she  had  held  him  back  to  a 
certain  line;  even  though  it  was  clearly  understood  to  both 
of  them  and  all  their  world  that  he  was  her  avowed  and 
accepted  lover.  She  gloried  in  his  physical  charm  and 
power.  She  took  a  woman's  pride  in  his  devotion,  and 
maybe,  most  of  all,  in  her  sovereignty  over  him;  she 
realized  more  clearly  than  any  one  else,  how  completely  he 
was  her  plastic  material.  A  mighty  engine,  indeed,  he  had 
need  of  a  skilful  engineer.  A  splendid  steed  of  rarest 
power  and  gift,  his  power  and  gift  were  useless,  even  worse, 
without  the  deft  control  of  the  rider,  who  should  become  in 
a  sense  his  soul,  as  the  captain  is  the  soul  of  a  great  ship. 
And  Belle  had  come  to  know  that  the  best  work  she  could 
ever  hope  to  do  was  as  the  captain  of  this  ship. 

And  what  was  to  hinder?    Belle  knew;  her  soft  brown 


THE  FIRE  217 

eyes  could  see  much  farther  through  the  stone  wall 
than  could  his  piercing  eyes  of  blue.  She  esti 
mated  at  its  true  potency  the  passion  that  now  threat 
ened  to  wreck  his  career.  A  lover  of  horses  always,  an 
absolute  worshipper  of  Blazing  Star,  he  was  barely  held  in 
restraint  by  his  promises  and  fears  of  Church  discipline, 
and  Belle  foresaw  a  time  when  his  wild,  impulsive  nature 
would  break  out.  He  would  surely  be  swept  away  by  the 
wild  currents  of  which  the  horse  race  is  the  vortex;  and, 
having  once  lost  hold,  he  would  go  the  pace,  break  all  rules, 
and  end.  .  .  ?  She  knew,  but  dared  not  say. 

Winter  would  soon  be  on  them  and,  with  that,  the  end  of 
their  happy  rides  together  on  the  plains.  The  different 
life  enforced  would  put  them  more  apart — cut  off  these 
saddle  tete-d-tetes,,  and  with  all  the  happenings,  past  or 
future,  in  her  mind  Belle  was  ready  for  a  woman's  game; 
the  time  had  come  to  play  it.  That  tightening  of  the 
cinch  was  not  by  chance. 

They  rode  a  race  for  a  mile  and  Jim  gallantly  held  back 
his  mount  so  that  she  should  keep  the  lead.  They  passed 
a  slough  along  whose  edge  the  gentians  still  were  blue;  she 
wanted  some,  and  when  he  brought  them  she  patted  his 
hand,  and  gave  the  flowers  an  honoured  place.  Suddenly 
a  coyote  appeared  and  she  raced  with  him  on  its 
trail  till  it  was  lost  to  view.  She  called  forth  all 
her  horsemanship  to  match  his.  and  make  him  feel  their 
perfect  harmony;  and  as  they  rode  side  by  side,  she  laid 
her  hand  on  his  arm  to  call  attention  to  some  creature  of 
the  plains  when  at  other  times  she  would  merely  have 
spoken.  It  thrilled  and  stirred  him,  so  he  tried  to  follow 


218    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

up  this  willingness  for  touch.  But  she  swung  away  each 
time.  Then  at  a  later  keep-your-distance  hint  she  gaily 
held  out  a  hand  to  him  and  teased  him  by  eluding  his 
grasp.  But  not  for  long;  with  a  great  spurt  he  swept  upon 
her,  seized  the  tantalizing  hand  now  accidentally  bared, 
and  the  thrill  of  her  touch,  the  joy  of  acceptation  in  that 
tiny  squeeze,  went  warmly  kindling  through  him.  His 
colour  came,  his  bright  blue  eyes  grew  brighter,  he  glowed 
in  body  and  in  spirit.  Never  before  had  she  seemed  so 
absolutely  fascinating;  never  before  had  he  felt  how  much 
she  was  to  him,  how  wholly  desirable  and  lovely  she  was, 
how  much  his  measure  of  all  good  things.  But  he  was 
such  a  boy  in  this  side  of  life  that  he  had  never  said  one 
open  word  of  love.  He  was  as  shy  as  most  youths  are  at 
sixteen. 

They  were  half  way  to  the  Fort  now,  the  level  plain 
spreading  for  a  mile  about  them.  There  was  no  chance  of 
interruption.  Their  horses  had  drawn  close  together 
again.  She  said,  "Look  at  the  bruise  on  my  hand  from 
last  week's  ride  through  the  brush."  He  seized  the  hand; 
there  was  no  bruise  to  be  seen,  but  he  bent  his  head  and 
fervently  kissed  the  place. 

"Jim,  do  you  really  care  so  much?"  she  asked,  with  a 
sidelong  glance  and  a  little  flush. 

"Oh,  Belle,  you  know — you  must  know "  And 

he  choked. 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  see  you  hold  any  other  woman's 
hand  that  way."  Their  horses'  shoulders  rubbed  and  she 
accidentally  swayed  toward  him;  she  seemed  to  lose  her 
balance.  In  a  minute  his  strong  arms  were  about  her;  a 


THE  FIRE  219 

great  emotion  swept  him  and  all  his  ardent  soul  was 
aflame.  With  sudden  abandon  of  all  restraint,  he 
showered  on  her  lips  a  lover's  passionate  kisses,  and:forced 
his  unwonted  tongue  and  lips  to  shape  the  old  refrain: 
"I  love  you;  I  love  you;  I  love  you  better  than  my  life." 

She  hid  her  burning  face,  but  he  held  her  tight,  and 
the  horses  moved  as  one. 

"Will  you,  Belle?  Will  you  be  my  wife?  I  can't  do 
anything  without  you.  You  have  saved  me  from  ruin.  I 
can't  do  anything  without  you." 

A  jack  rabbit  sprang  from  under  their  feet,  and  Blazing 
Star,  true  to  his  training,  darted  away;  and  so  the  pair 
were  forced  apart.  But,  in  a  moment,  Jim  was  back. 

"Will  you,  Belle?  Won't  you  take  me?"  He  seized 
her  hand  and  would  have  sought  her  lips  again,  but  she 
held  him  back. 

"  I  will,  Jim,  on  one  condition.     Will  you  promise  ? " 

"Anything.  I'll  promise  anything  I  have  or  can  be. 
Tell  me  what  it  is,  Belle?" 

"I  will  not  tell  you  now;  but  I  will  before  we  get  back  to 
Cedar  Mountain.  Now  let  us  ride";  and  she  touched  her 
pony  with  the  quirt,  and  led  at  a  gallop  which  ended  only 
at  the  house  of  Colonel  Waller  in  Fort  Ryan. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
LOVE   IN  THE   SADDLE 

HERE  come  Apollo  and  Psyche,"  said  Mrs.  Waller, 
as  she  glimpsed  them  from  the  window.     The 
Colonel  was  just  leaving  for  his  office  and  called  to 
them,  "Good  morning!    Go  on  in;  Mrs.  Waller  is  at  home. 
I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour." 

Already  there  was  a  fire  in  the  house,  for  the  nights  were 
chilly,  and  when  the  Colonel  returned,  they  were  sitting 
around  it  in  the  parlour. 

"I  want  to  see  the  stable,"  said  Belle,  so  forth  they  went 
together,  Hartigan  with  Mrs.  Waller  leading,  and  Belle 
with  the  Colonel.  She  lingered  till  the  others  were  out  of 
easy  hearing,  then  led  up  to  the  subject  of  the  horse  race. 

"It's  a  pretty  sore  subject  yet,"  answered  the  Colonel. 
"Most  of  my  men  are  pinching  their  families  on  half  pay 
to  work  off  their  debts  to  those  wily  redskins." 

"Do  they  have  to  pay?"  said  Belle. 

"Well,  these  are  debts  of  honour,  you  know,  and  in  the 
man's  code,  that  puts  them  ahead  of  rent,  clothing,  food,  or 
mortgages." 

"I  suppose  the  men  have  got  a  lesson  that  will  cure  them 
of  gambling  for  evermore  ? " 

"Oh,  no.  Not  at  all.  All  they  are  thinking  about  now 
is  where  to  get  a  horse  that  can  turn  the  tables." 

220 


LOVE  IN  THE  SADDLE  221 

"Seems  to  me  like  burning  one's  hand  because  one  got  a 
finger  scorched." 

"Well,  that's  the  man  of  it,"  said  the  Colonel.  "If  we 
could  get  Jim  to  run  Blazing  Star,  the  whole  garrison  would 
mortgage  their  lives  for  cash  to  stake  on  it  and  win  back  all 
they  had  lost  or  risked." 

"Well,  he  won't;  I  tell  you  that.  But  why  don't  you 
buy  Blazing  Star,  Colonel?" 

"Because  he  won't  sell.  We've  tried  every  way.  I 
never  saw  a  man  so  daffy  over  his  horse." 

"What  would  you  consider  a  fair  price,  Colonel?" 

"Well,  Jim  gave  five  dollars  for  him,  to  begin  with,  and 
refused  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  when  he  proved 
what  stuff  he  had  got.  I  should  say  three  hundred  dollars 
would  be  a  fair  price,  four  hundred  dollars  a  good  price  and 
five  hundred  dollars  an  absolutely  outside  record  price — 
scaled  wholly  on  the  fact  that  he's  the  fastest  horse  on  these 
plains." 

"Would  you  give  five  hundred  dollars?" 

"Yes,  I  would.  I'll  give  Hartigan  five  hundred  dollars 
for  Blazing  Star  right  now,  in  hard  cash;  but  I  don't  say 
I'll  hold  it  out  very  long.  Accidents  will  happen;  winter 
is  coming,  and  a  bad  wintering  often  ruins  a  horse." 

"Will  you  take  the  first  chance  to  offer  that  to  Hartigan  ? 
He'll  refuse;  but  say  you'll  leave  it  open  for  a  week,  and  I 
think  you'll  get  Blazing  Star." 

The  Colonel  laughed  a  little,  and  wondered  what  was  up. 
His  wife,  when  she  heard  of  it,  said:  "Ho,  ho!  I  know; 
they  want  to  get  married,  and  that's  the  easiest  way  to 
raise  the  needful." 


222    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

And  thenceforth  she  took  a  motherly  interest  in  the 
handsome  couple. 

Within  half  an  hour  the  Colonel  found  the  chance 
to  make  his  offer;  and  got  what  he  expected,  a  flat  re 
fusal. 

"Sure,  Colonel,  it  would  be  like  selling  the  hand  off  my 
arm  or  the  soul  out  of  my  body." 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  Colonel,  "never  mind.  I  won't 
take  your  answer  now;  we'll  leave  it  open  for  a  week." 

After  the  midday  meal,  Jim  and  Belle  mounted  and 
rode  away.  Jim  thought  to  take  matters  up  where  he 
had  left  off,  but  he  found  Belle  inclined  to  be  shy  and  rather 
preoccupied.  He  made  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  get 
her  to  talk,  but  she  always  relapsed  into  silence.  They 
were,  indeed,  halfway  back,  when  Hartigan  began  for  the 
fifth  time: 

"You  said  you  would  tell  me  on  the  road  back." 

"Tell  you  what?" 

"Tell  me  the  condition  on  which  you  will  have  me." 

He  leaned  over  and  put  his  arm  around  her.  This  time 
she  did  not  elude  him.  He  clasped  her  and  sought  her 
lips  and  she  allowed  her  head  to  sink  on  his  shoulder  while 
he  gathered  the  reins  of  both  horses  in  his  hand,  that  they 
might  not  separate.  She  seemed  content. 

"You  do  care  for  me,  don't  you?"  she  whispered. 

"Oh,  Belle!  I'd  do  anything  for  you.  I'd  give  my  life 
for  you." 

"  You  would  ?    Anything  ? " 

"Only  try  me." 

"Would  you  give  up  the  ministry  if  I  asked  you?" 


LOVE  IN  THE  SADDLE  223 

"If — if — you  thought  it  was  right — I  know  it  would  be 
right.  Yes,  I'd  do  it." 

"Then  I  won't  ask  that.  I'll  put  you  to  a  smaller  test. 
Will  you  face  it?" 

"I'll  promise  now;  I  give  you  my  word  before  you  name 


it." 


"Then  this  is  what  I  ask — that  you  sell  Blazing  Star  to 
Colonel  Waller  right  now,  this  very  day." 

"Oh,  oh,  Belle!"  he  said,  feebly;  "Blazing  Star!" 

"Yes,  Jim,  that  is  the  condition.  I  love  you,  Jim;  but 
you  must  choose  now  between  us.  Is  it  Belle  or  Blazing 
Star?" 

For  a  moment  he  seemed  stunned  but  he  tightened  his 
arms  about  her,  and  tense  the  answer  came.  "I  can't  do 
without  you,  Belle,  I  can't  do  without  you.  I've  given  you 
my  word.  I  take  you  on  your  terms." 

"Oh,  Jim!"  and  she  broke  down,  passionately  sobbing  in 
his  arms.  "Oh,  Jim!  You  great,  glorious,  wonderful, 
blind  Jim  Hartigan,  don't  you  know  that  I  love  you? 
Don't  you  know  I  have  thought  it  all  out?  Can't  you  see 
where  Blazing  Star  was  taking  you  ?  It  is  not  caprice;  you 
will  know  some  day." 

"I  know,  I  know  now.     I'll  do  what  you  say." 

"Then  turn  right  around  and  go  back  to  Fort  Ryan." 
They  turned;  she  led;  and  they  raced  without  pulling  rein. 

"Colonel,  I've  come  to  take  your  offer,"  said  Hartigan. 

"You're  a  wise  man,"  said  the  Colonel.  "Come  into  the 
office."  He  drew  up  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars. 
Jim  put  it  in  his  wallet  and  said  feebly,  "He's  yours. 
You'll  be  kind  to  him?"  Then  he  covered  his  face  with 


224    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

his  hands,  and  the  tears  splashed  through  his  ringers  to  the 
floor. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  Colonel,  deeply  touched. 
"He'll  be  treated  like  a  king.  You'll  see  him  in  the  race 
next  summer  and  you'll  see  him  win." 

In  all  the  blackness  of  that  hour  of  loss  that  thought  was 
the  one  gleam  of  comfort  in  the  realm  of  horse.  Now  he 
would  see  his  racer  on  the  track.  The  Church  held  him, 
but  held  his  horse  no  longer. 

Then  the  Angel  of  Destiny  as  he  downward  gazed,  said 
to  the  Angel  of  the  Fire — and  his  voice  trembled  a  little 
as  he  spoke —  "Rejoice,  for  the  furnace  was  heated  exceed 
ing  hot  and  the  metal  is  shining  brighter,  far  brighter  than 
before." 


BOOK  IV 
THE  HORSE  PREACHER  AFOOT 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  ADVENT  OF  MIDNIGHT 

THE  ride  home  after  that  fateful  decision  was  an 
event  to  be  remembered.  Jim  was  on  a  cavalry 
mount,  loaned  for  the  occasion.  Belle  felt  that 
since  he  had  given  up  so  much  for  her,  it  was  her  part  now 
to  prove  how  good  a  bargain  he  had  made;  and  she  exerted 
all  her  powers  to  double  her  ample  hold  on  his  love  and  de 
votion.  She  had  no  reason  to  question  her  power;  she  had 
almost  overmuch  success.  Jim  wanted  her  to  name  the 
day,  but  whatever  her  wishes  might  have  been,  her  judg 
ment  held  her  back. 

"Jim,  dear  love,  don't  you  see?  We  must  wait  a  long 
time.  Your  income  is  barely  enough  for  one.  You  are 
only  a  probationer  with  one  year's  leave  from  college,  and, 
at  most,  an  extension  of  another  year  possible.  What  little 
I  can  bring  as  my  share  of  the  'combine'  won't  go  very 
far." 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "I've  got  the  cash  to  furnish  our  house 
with,  anyway,"  and  he  slapped  his  hand  on  his  wallet 
pocket.  "I'll  put  that  in  the  bank  till  we  need  it." 

"Good  boy!"  and  Belle  smiled  happily. 

Arrived  at  Cedar  Mountain,  Jim  took  the  cavalry  mount 
to  the  livery  stable;  and  three  days  later,  the  little  stable  he 
had  built  for  Blazing  Star  was  torn  down  and  carried  away. 

227 


228    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Jim  was  looking  for  a  new  mount,  when  one  day  Cattle 
man  Kyle  appeared  in  the  town,  and  they  met  for  a  few 
minutes  at  the  blacksmith  shop. 

"  Hello,  Jim !  What  are  you  riding  these  days  ? "  was  his 
greeting. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I'm  afoot,  hard  afoot,"  was  the 
reply. 

"Anything  in  sight?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Come  with  me  for  a  minute.  I'm  cutting  down  my 
saddle  stock  for  the  winter.  I've  got  a  bunch  of  bronchos 
in  the  corral  by  the  river.  Have  a  look  at  them." 

Jim  went  rather  reluctantly;  his  heart  was  still  sore  over 
Blazing  Star,  and  he  was  not  ready  yet  to  put  another  into 
the  vacant  place.  After  a  silent  five  minutes'  walk,  they 
reached  the  corral  with  fifty  horses  of  all  colours,  sizes,  and 
shapes.  Then  Kyle  said:  "Jim,  I've  been  thinking, 
preachers  ain't  exactly  broken-backed  carrying  their 
spondulix.  I  kind  o'  think  I  owe  ye  something  in  the  way 
of  possibilities  for  putting  Blazing  Star  in  hands  which  may 
be  a  big  help  to  me.  So  there's  my  bunch;  you  can  go 
over  them  at  your  own  time  and  pick  the  best  as  a  free 
gift." 

"Ye  mean  it?" 

"That's  what  I  mean,  and  there's  my  hand  on  it,"  said 
Kyle.  And  it  was  so.  That  was  the  way  of  the  old-time 
cattleman.  If  he  lived  at  all,  his  money  came  in  large 
chunks.  He  lived  lavishly,  and  made  a  fortune,  if  moder 
ately  lucky.  So  they  were  a  generous  lot;  they  were 
truly  cattle  kings. 


THE  ADVENT  OF  MIDNIGHT         229 

But  the  cattle  king  reducing  his  horse  herd  does  not 
select  his  best  stock  for  the  hammer;  quite  the  reverse. 
Some  would  have  called  his  bunch  the  scrubs  and  tailings 
of  the  Circle  K  ranch.  Hartigan  knew  that;  but  he  also 
knew  that  it  must  contain  some  unbroken  horses  and  he 
asked  to  see  them.  There  were  ten,  and  of  these  he  se 
lected  the  biggest.  A  man  of  his  weight  must  have  a  bet 
ter  mount  than  a  pony.  So  the  tall,  raw-boned,  black 
three-year-old  was  roped  and  handed  over  to  the  Preacher. 
Kyle  did  not  fail  to  warn  him  that  "Midnight"  had  a 
temper. 

"Faith,  it's  mesilf  can  see  that,"  said  Hartigan,  "but  he 
isn't  broken  yet,  and  that  means  his  temper  isn't  spoiled. 
And  it's  mesilf  will  bring  him  to  time,  and  he  never  will  be 
broke.  If  your  broncho-busters  take  him  in  hand,  they'll 
ride  him  in  a  week,  but  they'll  make  a  divil  of  him.  I'll 
take  him  in  hand  and  in  three  months  I'll  have  him  follow 
ing  me  round  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  just  begging  me  to  get 
on  his  back,  and  go  for  a  run." 

Who  that  knows  the  horse  will  doubt  it?  Hartigan's 
first  aim  was  to  convince  the  black  colt  that  men  were  not 
cruel  brutes,  and  that  he,  Hartigan,  was  the  gentlest  and 
kindest  of  them  all.  And  this  he  did  by  being  much  with 
him,  by  soft  talking,  by  never  being  abrupt,  and  by  bring 
ing  him  favourite  food.  Not  in  a  stable — it  was  a 
month  before  the  wild  horse  would  consent  to  enter  a  stable 
—this  first  period  of  training  was  all  in  a  corral.  Then 
came  the  handling.  Midnight  was  very  apt  to  turn  and 
kick  when  first  a  hand  was  laid  on  him,  but  he  learned  to 
tolerate,  and  then  to  love  the  hand  of  his  master;  and  when 


23o   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

this  treatment  was  later  reinforced  with  a  currycomb,  the 
sensation  pleased  him  mightily.  The  bridle  next  went  on 
by  degrees — first  as  a  halter,  then  as  a  hackimore,  last  com 
plete  with  bit.  The  saddle  was  the  next  slow  process — a 
surcingle,  a  folded  blanket  and  cinch,  a  double  blanket  and 
cinch,  a  bag  of  oats  and  cinch  and,  finally,  the  saddle  and 
rider.  It  was  slow,  but  it  was  steadily  successful;  and 
whenever  the  black  colt's  ears  went  back  or  his  teeth  gave  a 
rebellious  snap,  Jim  knew  he  was  going  too  fast,  and  gently 
avoided  a  clash.  Never  once  did  he  fight  with  that  horse; 
and  before  three  months  had  passed,  he  was  riding  the  tall 
black  colt;  and  the  colt  was  responding  to  his  voice  and  his 
touch  as  a  "broken"  horse  will  never  do. 

"Yes,"  said  Kyle,  "I  know  all  about  that.  It  costs 
about  twenty-five  dollars  to  learn  a  horse  that  way,  and  it 
costs  about  five  dollars  to  break  him  cowboy  way.  An 
average  horse  is  worth  only  about  twenty-five  dollars. 
The  cowboy  way  is  good  enough  for  our  job,  so  I  don't  see 
any  prospect  of  change  till  we  get  a  price  that  will  justify 
the  'training." 

Belle  was  an  intensely  interested  spectator  of  all  this 
Midnight  chapter.  She  wanted  Jim  to  get  a  good  horse 
that  he  would  love,  but  oh,  how  she  prayed  and  hoped  he 
would  not  happen  on  another  speeder!  She  knew  quite 
well  that  it  was  about  one  chance  in  ten  thousand;  but  she 
also  knew  that  Jim  could  make  a  good  horse  out  of  medi 
ocre  material;  and  it  was  with  anxiety  just  the  reverse  of 
his  that  she  watched  the  black  colt  when  first  they  rode 
together.  He  was  strong  and  hard,  but,  thank  heaven,  she 
thought,  showed  no  sign  of  racing  blood. 


THE  ADVENT  OF  MIDNIGHT  231 

"Of  course,  he'll  come  up  a  little  later,  when  I  get  him 
well  in  hand,"  Jim  explained  apologetically. 

And  Belle  added,  "I  hope  not." 

"Why?"  asked  Jim  in  surprise. 

"Because,  you  might  ride  away  from  me."  And  she 
meant  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   SOCIABLE 

CHRISTMAS  time  with  its  free  days  and  its  social 
gatherings  was  at  hand;  and  the  Church  folk  must 
needs  respond  to  the  spirit  of  the  season  with  a 
"sociable."  In  such  a  meeting,  the  young  minister  is  king 
— that  is  the  tradition — and  on  this  occasion  it  was  easier 
than  usual  to  crown  the  heir  apparent.  At  least  twenty 
girls  were  making  love  to  Jim,  and  he  was  quite  unconscious 
of  it  all,  except  that  he  thought  them  a  little  free,  and  at 
length  he  recited  an  appropriate  couplet  from  "The  Soli 
tude  of  Alexander  Selkirk":  "They  are  so  unaccustomed 
to  man,  their  tameness  is  shocking  to  me."  He  joked  and 
laughed  with  all;  but  ever  he  drifted  over  toward  Belle,  to 
consult,  to  whisper,  to  linger. 

For  such  affairs  there  is  a  time-honoured  and  established 
programme  that  was  fairly  well  adhered  to  at  least  in  the 
early  part.  They  met  at  the  church  parlours  and  gossiped; 
had  a  prayer,  then  more  gossip;  next  followed  tea  and 
cakes  in  a  poisonous  abundance,  and  more  gossip.  Now 
the  older  preacher,  as  expected,  read  a  chapter  out  of  some 
safe  story  book,  amid  gossip — harmless  in  the  main,  but 
still  gossip.  Next  the  musical  geniuses  of  the  congregation 
were  unchained.  A  perfectly  well-meaning  young  lady 
sang,  "  Be  kind  to  your  brother,  he  may  not  last  long,"  to 

232 


THE  SOCIABLE  233 

an  accompaniment  of  squeaks  on  the  melodeon — and 
gossip.  A  boy  orator  recited  "Chatham's  speech  on 
American  Independence/'  and  received  an  outburst  of 
applause  which,  for  a  moment,  overpowered  the  gossip. 

Lou-Jane  Hoomer,  conspicuous  for  her  intense  hair  and 
noisy  laugh,  had  been  active  in  getting  up  the  sociable,  and 
now  she  contributed  of  her  talents  by  singing  "Home, 
Sweet  Home."  About  the  middle  of  the  second  period, 
according  to  custom,  the  preacher  should  recite  "Barbara 
Frietchie"  to  a  whispering  chorus  of  gossip.  But  Jim  was 
brought  up  in  a  land  not  reached  by  Barbara's  fame  and  he 
made  a  new  departure  by  giving  a  Fenian  poem — "Shamus 
O'Brien" — with  such  fervour  that,  for  the  moment,  the 
whisperers  forgot  to  gossip. 

Belle,  as  the  manager  of  the  affair,  was  needed  every 
where  and  all  the  time,  but  made  no  contribution  to  the 
programme.  Lou-Jane  scored  such  a  success  with  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home"  that  she  was  afterward  surrounded  by  a 
group  of  admirers,  among  them  Jim  Hartigan. 

"Sure,"  he  said,  she  "was  liable  to  break  up  the  meeting 
making  every  one  so  homesick,"  and  she  replied  that  "it 
would  never  break  up  as  long  as  he  was  there  to  attract 
them  all  together." 

John  Higginbotham,  with  his  unfailing  insurance  eye, 
pointed  out  that  the  stove-pipe  wire  had  sagged,  bringing 
the  pipe  perilously  near  the  woodwork,  and  then  gossiped 
about  the  robberies  his  company  had  suffered.  A  game  of 
rhymes  was  proposed.  In  this  one  person  gives  a  word 
and  the  next  to  him  must  at  once  match  it  with  an  ap 
propriate  rhyme.  This  diversion  met  with  little  en- 


234    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

thusiasm  and  the  party  lagged  until  some  one  suggested 
that  Jim  recite.  He  chose  a  poem  from  Browning,  "How 
They  Brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent  to  Aix. "  He  put 
his  very  soul  in  those  galloping  horses  and  wondered  why 
the  poet  said  so  much  about  the  men  and  so  little  about  the 
steeds.  Dr.  Jebb  could  not  quite  "see  the  lesson,"  but  the 
fire  and  power  of  the  rendering  gripped  the  audience.  Dr. 
Carson  said,  "Now  you're  doing  real  stuff!  If  you'd  cut 
out  all  your  piffling  goody  talk  and  give  us  life  like  that, 
you'd  have  all  the  town  with  you." 

Lou-Jane  was  actually  moved,  and  Belle  glowed  with 
pride  to  see  her  hero  really  touching  the  nobler  strings  of 
human  emotion — strings  that  such  a  community  is  apt  to 
lose  sight  of  under  cobwebs  of  long  disuse  but  they  are 
there  and  ready  to  resound  to  the  strong,  true  soul  that 
can  touch  them  with  music. 

But  what  was  it  in  the  trampling  horses  that  stirred  some 
undiscovered  depth  in  his  own  heart?  How  came  it  that 
those  lines  drove  fogbanks  back  and  showed  another  height 
in  his  soul,  a  high  place  never  seen  before,  even  by  himself? 
And,  as  those  simple  townfolk,  stirred  they  knew  not  how, 
all  clamoured  for  another  song,  he  felt  the  thrill  that  once 
was  his  in  the  far-off  stable  yard  of  Links,  when  Denny 
Denard,  brandishing  a  dung-fork,  chanted  "The  Raiding 
of  Aymal."  Now  it  all  came  back  and  Hartigan  shouted 
out  the  rede: 

<fHaakon  is  dead!     Haakon  is  dead! 
Haakon  of  the  bronze-hilt  sword  is  dead. 
His  son's  in  his  stead; 
Aymal,  tall  son  of  Haakon, 


THE  SOCIABLE  235 

Swings  now  the  bronze-hilt  sword  of  his  father. 

He  is  gone  to  the  High-fielden 

To  the  high  pasture  to  possess  the  twelve  mares  of  his  father; 

Black  and  bay  and  yellow,  as  the  herdsman  drave  them  past  him; 

Black  and  yellow,  their  manes  on  the  wind; 

And  galloped  a  colt  by  the  side  of  each." 

So  he  sang  in  a  chant  the  saga-singer's  tale  of  the  king 
killing  all  the  colts  save  one  that  it  might  have  the  nursing 
of  the  twelve.  His  eye  sparkled  and  glowed;  his  colour 
mounted;  his  soul  was  so  stirred  with  the  story  that  his 
spirit  could  fill  the  gaps  where  his  memory  failed.  The 
sense  of  power  was  on  him;  he  told  the  swinging  tale  as 
though  it  were  in  verity  his  own;  and  the  hearers  gazed  in 
tensely,  feeling  that  he  sang  of  himself.  It  was  no  acting, 
but  a  king  proclaiming  himself  a  king,  when  he  told  of  the 
world  won  by  the  bronze  sword  bearer  mounted  on  the 
twelve-times-nourished  stallion  colt;  and  he  finished  with  a 
royal  gesture  and  injunction: 

"Ho!  ye,  ye  seven  tall  sons  of  Aymal, 
Comes  there  a  time  when  face  you  many  trails; 
Hear  this  for  wisdom  now; 
Twelve  colts  had  I  and  all  save  one  I  slew. 
The  twelve-times-nourished  charger  grew 
And  round  the  world  he  bore  me 
,  And  never  failed;  so  all  the  world  was  mine 

And  all  the  world  I  ruled. 
Ho,  children  of  the  bronze-hilt  sword, 
Take  this  for  guiding  creed : 
Pick  out  your  one  great  steed 
And  slay  the  rest  and  ride." 

And  when  he  smote  the  table  with  his  fist  the  folk  in  that 
poor,  simple  hall  were  hushed  with  awe.  They  had  no 


236    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

words  to  clothe  the  thoughts  that  came,  no  experience  of 
their  own  to  match  them.  There  was  a  pause — a  silence; 
a  slow,  uncertain  sounding  of  applause.  Carson  glared 
half  hypnotized;  then  said  to  himself:  "This  is  not  Jim 
Hartigan;  this  is  the  royal  saga  who  sang." 

What  he  clearly  expressed,  the  others  vaguely  but  deeply 
felt.  As  for  Belle,  the  passion  and  the  power  of  it  pos 
sessed  her.  She  was  deeply  moved — and  puzzled,  too.  It 
was  a  side  of  Jim  she  had  not  known  before.  Later,  as 
they  went  home  together  hand  on  arm,  she  held  on  to  him 
very  tightly  and  said  softly:  "Now  I  know  that  you  are 
marked  for  big  things  in  the  world." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

SPRINGTIME 

HAVE  you  seen  the  springtime  dawn  on  the  Black 
Hills?  No?  Then  you  have  never  seen  a  real 
spring. 

For  long,  dark,  silent  months  the  land  has  lain  under  a 
broad  white  robe,  the  plains  are  levelled,  hidden,  and  the 
whiteness  of  the  high  spaces  sweeps  down  to  meet,  on  the 
lower  hills,  the  sudden  blackness  of  the  forest  pine.  And 
now  you  know  why  these  are  named  Black  Hills.  Full 
four  white  moons  have  waned;  the  blizzard  wind  has  hissed 
and  stung,  till  the  house-bound  wonder  if  the  days  of 
spring  will  ever  come.  In  March,  when  the  northward- 
heading  crows  appear,  the  sting-wind  weakens,  halts;  the 
sweet  south  wind  springs  up,  the  snow-robe  of  the  plains 
turns  yellow  here  and  there  as  the  grass  comes  through, 
then  lo !  comes  forth  a  world  of  crocus  bloom.  The  white 
robe  shrivels  fast  now,  the  brown  pursues  it  up  the 
mountain  side  till  at  the  last  there  is  nothing  left  but 
a  high-up  snow-cap  hiding  beneath  the  pines,  slowly  dis 
solving  in  a  million  crystal  rills  to  swell  the  rolling  Chey 
enne  far  below.  The  spring  birds  fill  the  air,  the  little 
ones  that  twitter  as  they  pass,  and  the  great  gold-breasted 
prairie  lark  that  sings  and  sings :  "The  Spring,  the  Spring, 
the  glory  of  the  Spring!"  Then  all  the  world  is  glad,  and 

23? 


238    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

stronger  than  the  soft  new  wind,  deeper  than  the  impulse 
of  awakening  flower  bulbs,  broader  than  the  brightening 
tinge  of  green — is  the  thrill  of  a  world-wide,  sky-wide 
joy  and  power,  the  exquisite  tenderness  and  yearning 
which  if  you  know,  you  know;  and  if  you  do  not  know 
it  none  can  make  you  understand. 

"O  God  of  the  blue  and  the  green  and  the  wind,  oh,  send 
me  what  my  spirit  craves."  That  is  the  prayer,  the  un 
spoken  prayer,  of  every  sun-wise  creature  in  these  days; 
and  the  wild  things  race  and  seek,  and  search  and  race,  not 
knowing  what  draws  them  ever  on;  but  they  surely  know 
when  they  find  it,  and  then  they  are  at  rest. 

And  they  rode,  Belle  and  Jim,  the  big  square  man,  and 
the  maid  with  the  age-old  light  in  her  eyes,  and  they  re 
joiced  in  the  golden  plains.  They  rode  with  the  wild 
things  of  the  plain,  and  though  they  talked  of  the  past  and 
the  future  there  was  for  them  but  one  thing  worth  a 
thought,  the  golden  present  in  their  golden  youth. 

"Oh,  Belle,  what  fools  we  are!  We  talk  of  the  past  and 
of  far-off  days,  of  the  blessings  that  are  ahead  of  us,  and  I 
know  there  is  no  better  joy  than  this,  to  ride  and  shout  and 
be  alive  right  now  with  you!" 

Midnight  had  burgeoned  out  into  a  big  strong  horse;  not 
swift,  but  staunch  and  better  fitted  than  the  other  for  a 
rider  of  such  weight.  The  wound  of  losing  Blazing  Star 
had  healed,  and  the  scar  it  left  was  a  precious  thing  to  Jim 
much  as  the  Indian  holds  his  Sun  Dance  scars  as  proofs  of 
fortitude  unflinching. 

Fort  Ryan  and  all  the  plains  were  in  a  rosy  light  this 
spring.  It  was  a  threefold  joy  to  ride  on  Midnight,  with 


SPRINGTIME  239 

Belle,  and  to  visit  Blazing  Star  in  his  stall  at  the  Fort. 
Hartigan  felt  a  little  guilty  as  the  gentle  creature  would 
come  and  nose  about  for  sugar  lumps  while  Midnight 
would  lay  back  his  ears  at  the  approach.  Midnight  had  a 
temper,  as  was  well  known;  but  it  was  never  let  forth,  for 
the  master  that  had  so  little  skill  in  handling  men  was 
adept  with  the  horse. 

These  were  very  full  days  for  Jim  and  Belle,  though  they 
took  their  happiness  in  very  different  moods.  There  never 
was  a  grown  man  more  incapable  of  thought  for  the  mor 
row  than  Hartigan;  he  was  alive  right  now,  he  would  right 
now  enjoy  his  life  and  Belle  should  be  the  crown.  But  in 
her  eyes  even  his  imperception  discovered  a  cloud. 

"What  is  it,  Belle?  Why  do  you  get  that  far-off 
troubled  look?" 

"Oh,  Jim,  you  big,  blind,  childish  giant;  do  you  never 
think?  You  are  only  a  probationer  with  one  year's  leave. 
That  year  is  up  on  the  first  of  May." 

"Why,  Belle  darling,  that's  five  weeks  off.  A  world  of 
things  may  happen  before  that." 

"Yes,  if  we  make  them  happen,  and  I'm  going  to 
try." 

"Well,  Belle,  this  thing  I  know;  if  you  set  your  mind  to 
it  I'd  bet — if  I  weren't  a  preacher — I'd  bet  there's  not  a 
thing  could  stand  against  you." 

"I  like  your  faith,  Jim;  but  'faith  without  works  is 
dead';  and  that  means  we  must  get  up  and  rustle." 

"What  do  you  suggest?" 

"Well,  I  have  been  rustling  this  long  while  back.  I've 
been  working  Dr.  Jebb  and  Mrs.  Jebb  and  anybody  else  I 


24o   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

could  get  hold  of,  to  have  your  probation  extended  for  an 
other  year.  And  the  best  news  we  have  so  far  is  the 
possibility  of  another  six  months.  After  that,  you  must 
go  back  to  college  to  complete  your  course." 

COLLEGE!  Jim  was  thunderstruck.  How  many  a 
man  has  all  his  dream  of  bliss  summed  up  in  that  one  word — 
college?  "Oh,  if  only  I  had  money  enough  to  go  to  col 
lege!"  is  the  cry  of  hundreds  who  hunger  for  the  things 
that  college  means;  and  yet,  to  Jim,  it  was  like  a  doom  of 
death.  College,  with  all  the  horror  of  the  classroom  ten 
times  worse  since  knowing  the  better  things.  College  in  the 
far-off  East — deadly,  lifeless,  crushing  thing;  college  that 
meant  good-bye  to  Belle,  to  life,  and  red  blood  on  the 
plains.  Yes,  he  knew  it  was  coming,  if  ever  he  gave  the 
horrid  thing  a  thought;  but  now  that  it  was  close  at  hand 
the  idea  was  maddening.  College  was  simply  another 
name  for  hell.  The  effect  of  the  sudden  thought  on  his 
wild,  impulsive  nature  was  one  great  surging  tide  of  re 
bellion. 

"/  wont  go!"  he  thundered.  "Belle,  do  you  suppose 
God  brought  me  out  here  to  meet  you,  and  have  you  save 
me  from  ruin  and  help  me  to  know  the  best  things  on  earth, 
just  to  chuck  it  all  and  go  back  to  a  lot  of  useless  rot  about 
the  number  of  wives  the  kings  of  Judah  used  to  have,  or 
how  some  two-faced  Hebrew  woman  laid  traps  for  some 
wine-soaked  Philistine  brute,  and  stuck  the  rotten  loafer 
in  the  back  with  a  kitchen  knife  all  for  the  pleasure  and 
glory  of  a  righteous  God !  I  don't  want  any  more  of  it, 
Belle;  /  wont  go!  You've  told  me  often  enough  that  my 
instincts  are  better  than  my  judgment,  and  my  instincts 


SPRINGTIME  241 

tell  me  to  stay  right  here,"  and  his  face  flushed  red  with 
passion. 

"Dear  boy!  Don't  you  know  I'm  trying  to  help  you? 
Don't  you  know  I  mean  to  keep  you  here  ?  You  know  that 
we  can  get  anything  we  want,  if  we  are  willing  to  pay  the 
price,  and  will  have  it.  I  mean  to  keep  you  here;  only  I 
am  trying  not  to  pay  too  high  a  price." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his.  He  reached  out  and  put  an 
arm  about  her.  She  said  nothing,  and  did  nothing.  She 
knew  that  he  must  blow  ofF  this  fierce  steam,  and  that  the 
reaction  would  then  set  in  with  equal  force. 

They  rode  for  a  mile  in  silence;  she  wanted  him  to  speak 
first. 

"You  always  help  me,"  he  said  at  last,  heaving  a  great 
sigh.  "You  are  wiser  than  I  am." 

She  gently  patted  his  cheek.  He  went  on:  "What  do 
you  think  I  should  do?" 

"Nothing  for  three  days;  then  we'll  see." 

They  galloped  for  half  a  mile,  and  every  sign  of  worry 
was  gone  from  his  face  as  they  reined  their  horses  in  at  the 
stable  of  Fort  Ryan. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
WHEN  THE  GREASEWOOD  is  IN   BLOOM 

BIG  things  were  in  the  air,  as  all  the  horsemen  knew. 
Blazing  Star  had  wintered  well  and,  being  a  four- 
and-a-half-year-old,  was  in  his  prime.  Red  Rover 
in  the  adjoining  stable  was  watched  with  equal  care. 
Prairie  hay  was  judged  good  enough  for  the  country  horses; 
but  baled  timothy,  at  shocking  prices,  was  brought  from 
Pierre  for  the  two  racers;  and,  after  a  brief  period  of  let 
down  on  clover  and  alfalfa,  the  regular  routine  diet  of  a 
race  horse  was  begun,  as  a  matter  of  course.  Little 
Breeches  had  left,  chiefly  because  of  unpleasant  remarks 
that  he  continued  to  hear  in  the  stable.  He  had  taken  a 
springtime  job  among  the  cattle.  So  Peaches,  having  no 
other  string  to  his  bow,  allowed  the  officers  "to  secure  his 
services  as  second  assistant  trainer,"  as  he  phrased  it,  or, 
as  they  with  brutal  simplicity  put  it,  "as  stable  boy."  He 
accepted  this  gravely  responsible  position  on  the  explicit 
understanding  that  allusions  to  the  late  race  were  in  bad 
taste. 

Why  should  these  two  horses  be  so  carefully  trained? 
There  was  no  race  on  the  calendar.  No,  but  every  one 
assumed  that  there  would  be  a  challenge,  and  nobody 
dreamed  of  declining  it.  So,  one  day  when  all  the  plains 
were  spangle-glint  with  grass  and  bloom,  the  sentry  re- 

242 


WHEN  THE  GREASEWOOD  IS  IN  BLOOM   243 

ported  horsemen  in  the  south,  a  band  of  Indians,  probably 
Sioux.  It  was  an  hour  before  they  halted  near  the  Fort, 
and  Red  Cloud,  on  a  fine  strong  pony,  came  with  his 
counsellors  around  him  to  swing  his  hand  in  the  free  grace 
of  the  sign  talk,  to  smoke  and  wait,  and  wait  and  smoke, 
and  then  speak,  as  before,  on  the  Colonel's  porch. 

"Did  the  Soldier  High  Chief  want  a  race  this  year?" 

"Sure  thing,"  was  all  the  interpreter  had  to  transmute. 

"When?" 

"As  before." 

"When  the  greasewood  blooms,  on  the  white  man's  big 
noisy  wet  Sunday  ? "  For  the  treaty  money  was  to  be  paid 
that  day.  And  Colonel  Waller's  eyes  lit  up. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  the  Fourth  of  July  they  should 
race  as  before  on  the  Fort  Ryan  track;  the  horses  were  to 
be  named  on  the  day  of  the  race.  And  Red  Cloud  rode 
away. 

Jim  Hartigan  was  present  at  that  interview;  he  watched 
their  every  move,  he  drank  in  every  word,  and  he  rode  at  a 
gallop  till  he  found  Belle.  "Belle,  the  race  is  on  for  the 
Fourth  of  July,  they're  going  to  enter  Blazing  Star.  Oh, 
glory  be!  I'll  see  that  race;  I'll  see  Blazing  Star  show  all 
the  country  how." 

"Yes,  unless  you  are  sent  back  to  college." 

"Oh,  Belle,  that's  a  cruel  one.  Just  as  everything  looks 
gay,  you  hand  me  that,"  and  his  face  clouded.  He  knew 
too  well  that  there  was  little  likelihood  of  an  extension;  it 
was  most  unusual.  Why  should  an  exception  be  made  in 
his  case? 

"You  know,  Jim,"  she  said  very  seriously,  "we  have 


244    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

been  trying  to  move  the  president  of  the  college;  and  the 
fact  that  you  are  so  much  of  a  favourite  is  additional  rea 
son  for  getting  you  back.  The  president  has  turned  us 
down." 

"Well,  Belle,  I  simply  won't  go." 
"You  mean  you  will  break  with  the  Church?" 
"I'll  avoid  that  as  long  as  possible,  but  I  won't  go  back 
— at  least,  not  now." 

"Jim,"  she  said,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye,  "the  presi 
dent  turned  down  Dr.  Jebb  and  John  Higginbotham  and 
you;  but  we  were  not  licked.  Mrs.  Jebb,  Hannah  Higgin 
botham,  and  myself  went  after  the  president's  wife,  and 
this  morning  Dr.  Jebb  got  a  new  mandate;  not  all  we 
asked,  but  your  furlough  is  extended  for  six  months 


more." 


"Hooray!     Whoop!"  was  the  response. 

"Yes,  I  thought  so,"  said  Belle.  "That's  why  I  asked 
Dr.  Jebb  to  let  me  break  the  news.  For  a  serious  divinity 
student,  it's  wonderful  what  a  good  imitation  you  can  give 
of  a  man  who  hates  books." 

"Well,  now,  Belle,  you  know,  and  I  know,  and  all  the 
world  knows,  I  can  preach  a  better  sermon  than  Dr.  Jebb, 
although  he  has  studied  a  thousand  books  to  my  one  and 
knows  more  in  a  minute  of  time  than  I  can  ever  know  in  a 
month  of  Sundays.  And,  if  I  go  to  college  and  learn  to 
talk  like  him,  I'll  put  people  to  sleep  in  church  just  as  he 
does.  Hasn't  the  attendance  doubled  since  I  came?" 
There  was  no  question  of  that  due  in  part  to  the  growth  of 
the  town,  and  partly  also  to  Hartigan's  winning  personality 
and  interesting  though  not  very  scholarly  sermons. 


WHEN  THE  GREASEWOOD  IS  IN  BLOOM    245 

"All  right,"  said  Belle.  "You  are  saved  from  the  ter 
rible  fate  for  six  months.  Be  happy." 

And  he  was.  To  such  a  buoyant  soul  a  guarantee  of  six 
months'  freedom  put  slavery  so  very  far  away  that  it  was 
easy  to  forget  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 
SHOEING  THE   BUCKSKIN 

HARTIGAN  and  the  blacksmith  were  at  it  hard 
again. 
"Look  a'  here,"  said  Shives,  "I  want  ye  to 
notice  all  this  here  Church  business  was  faked  up  by  that 
man  Paul,  or  Saul,  or  whatever  he  called  himself;  and 
the  real  disciples  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him. 
They  threw  him  down  cold  whenever  he  tried  to  mix  in. 
Now  if  you  chuck  him  and  stick  to  the  simple  kindness  of 
the  old-timers  that  really  did  sit  around  with  the  Master — 
Paul  never  even  saw  Him! — I'm  willing  to  hear  ye. 
But  a  man  that  writes  whole  screeds  about  getting  or 
not  getting  married  and  what  kind  of  frippery  women 
have  to  wear  on  their  heads,  well,  I've  got  him  sized  up 
for  a  fellow  that  had  a  dressing  down  from  some  woman 
and  probably  deserved  all  he  got — and  more." 

It  was  a  long  speech  for  Shives  and  more  than  once 
John  Higginbotham  tried  to  break  in. 

But  Shives  struck  the  anvil  a  succession  of  ringing 
blows  which  overpowered  all  rival  voices  as  effectively  as 
any  speaker's  gavel  could  have  done.  Then,  turning  sud 
denly  on  Higginbotham,  he  said,  "See  here,  Deacon" 
(and  he  stressed  the  "Deacon"),  "if  you  take  the  trouble 
to  read  a  publication  called  the  Bible,  and  in  particular  the 

246 


SHOEING  THE  BUCKSKIN  247 

early  numbers  of  the  second  volume,  you'll  find  that  the  Big 
Teacher  taught  socialism — and  the  real  disciples  did,  too. 
It  was  that  little  lawyer  feller  Paul  that  succeeded  in  twist 
ing  things  around  to  the  old  basis  of  'get  all  you  can;  there 
must  always  be  rich  and  poor';  and  it  ain't  a  bit  of  use  your 
preaching  to  a  man  'don't  steal/  when  his  babies  are  crying 
for  bread.  I  know  I'd  steal  fast  enough;  so  would  you,  if 
you  were  anything  of  a  man.  It  would  be  your  'fore- 
God  duty  to  steal;  yes,  and  murder,  too,  if  there  was  no 
other  way  of  feeding  them  that  He  gave  you  to  feed. 
And  the  law  has  no  right  to  preach  'no  stealing'  when  it 
fixes  it  so  you  can't  help  stealing.  If  this  yere  govern 
ment  of  ours  was  what  it  pretends  to  be  and  ain't,  it  would 
arrange  so  every  man  could  get  enough  work  at  least  to 
feed  him  and  his  folks  and  save  himself  from  starvation 
when  he  was  sick  or  old.  There  wouldn't  be  any  stealing 
then  and  mighty  little  of  any  other  crime. 

"That's  my  opinion;  and  I  tell  you  it  was  that  way  the 
Big  Teacher  preached  it  in  the  beginning,  as  you  can  see 
plain  enough.  And  the  first  ring  of  disciples  were  honest 
socialists.  It  was  that  letter-writing  advance  agent  of  the 
trusts  that  you  call  Saint  Paul,  that  managed  to  get 
control  of  the  company  and  then  twisted  things  back  into 
the  old  ways.  And  in  my  opinion  the  hull  bunch  of  you  is 
crooks  hiding  behind  the  name  of  a  good  man  who  threw 
you  down  cold  when  He  was  alive.  And  the  very  words 
He  used  happens  to  be  a  verse  I  remember:  'Ye  compass 
sea  and  land  to  make  one  proselyte  and  when  he  is  made 
ye  make  him  twofold  more  a  child  of  hell  than  your 
selves/  " 


248    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

And  the  anvil  rang,  "clang,  clang,  clang!" 

"Now,  Shives,"  bawled  Jim  in  his  stentorian  voice, 
"you  haven't  begun  to  think.  And  every  statement  you 
make  is  wrong  and  none  of  your  quotations  ever  hap 
pened  before;  otherwise,  I  am  quite  willing  to  accept 
everything  you  say.  For  example " 

"Hello!  who's  this?" 

Up  to  the  door  of  the  blacksmith  shop  came  riding  a 
band  of  mounted  Indians.  First  of  these  was  a  middle- 
sized  man  with  large  square  features,  a  single  eagle 
feather  in  his  hair.  Hartigan  recognized  at  once  the 
famous  War  Chief,  Red  Cloud,  the  leader  of  all  the  Sioux. 
Riding  beside  him  was  an  interpreter,  and  behind  him  was 
a  small  boy,  mounted  on  a  tall  pony — buckskin,  so  far  as 
one  could  tell,  but  so  shrouded  in  a  big  blanket  that  little 
of  his  body  was  seen;  his  head  was  bedizened  with  a  fancy 
and  expensive  bridle  gear. 

The  whole  shop  turned  to  see.  The  interpreter  got 
down  and  approaching  Shives,  said,  "You  can  shoe  pony, 
when  he  ain't  never  been  shod?" 

"Sure  thing,"  said  Shives,  "we  do  it  every  day." 

"How  much?" 

"Five  dollars." 

"Do  him  now?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  so." 

The  interpreter  spoke  to  Red  Cloud;  the  Chief  motioned 
to  the  boy,  who  dropped  from  the  blanketed  pony  and  led 
it  forward. 

"Bring  him  in  here,"  and  Shives  indicated  the  shop. 
But  that  was  not  so  easy.  The  pony  had  never  before 


SHOEING  THE  BUCKSKIN  249 

been  under  a  roof,  and  now  he  positively  declined  to 
break  his  record.  Some  men  would  have  persisted  and 
felt  it  their  duty  to  show  the  horse  "who  is  boss."  Shives 
was  inclined  to  be  masterful;  it  was  Hartigan  who  sized 
up  the  situation. 

"He's  never  been  under  a  roof,  Jack.  I  wouldn't  force 
him;  it'll  only  make  trouble." 

"All  right;  tie  him  out  there."  So  the  pony  was  tied 
on  the  shady  side  of  the  shop. 

Hartigan  turned  to  the  half-breed  interpreter  to  ask, 
"What  do  you  want  him  shod  for?"  It  was  well  known 
that  the  Indians  did  not  shoe  their  horses. 

The  half-breed  spoke  to  Red  Cloud,  who  was  standing 
near  with  his  men,  talking  among  themselves. 

The  Chief  said  something;  then  the  interpreter  replied, 
"By  and  by,  we  race  him,  maybe  on  the  Big  Wet  Sunday; 
prairie  wet,  so  he  go  slow." 

There  was  a  general  chuckle  at  this.  Sure  enough,  the 
Fourth  of  July,  presumably  the  race  day  in  mind,  it  nearly 
always  rained;  and  for  the  wet  track  they  wanted  their 
racer  shod. 

There  are  few  short  operations  that  take  more  horse 
management  that  the  first  shoeing  of  a  full-grown  horse, 
especially  a  wild  Indian  pony.  Nearly  everything  de 
pends  on  the  handling  and  on  the  courage  of  the  pony. 
In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  pony  must  be  thrown.  On 
rare  occasions  a  very  brave  horse,  of  good  temper,  can  be 
shod  by  a  clever  farrier  without  throwing.  But  it  takes  a 
skilful  shoer,  with  a  strong  and  skilful  helper,  for  the  assis 
tant  must  keep  one  front  foot  of  the  horse  off  the  ground 


250    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

all  the  time  the  hind  shoe  is  being  put  on,  or  the  shoer  is 
liable  to  get  his  brains  kicked  out.  As  they  were  discussing 
the  need  of  throwing  the  pony,  the  interpreter  said: 

"Red  Cloud  no  want  him  thrown.  Chaska  hold  him." 
The  bright-eyed  boy  from  the  mountain  top — yes,  the 
same — came  forward  and,  holding  the  pony's  head,  began 
crooning  a  little  song.  The  pony  rubbed  his  nose  against 
him,  recovered  his  calm,  and  thanks  to  Hartigan's  help — 
for  he  had  volunteered  eagerly  to  lend  a  hand — the  opera 
tion  progressed  without  mishap.  There  were,  however, 
one  or  two  little  tussles,  in  which  the  great  blanket  slipped 
off  the  pony's  back  and  showed  a  rounded,  beautiful 
barrel  of  a  chest,  hocks  like  a  deer,  and  smooth,  clean 
limbs;  a  very  unusually  fine  build  for  an  Indian  pony. 

"By  George!  He's  a  good  one,"  said  Jim,  and  his 
heart  warmed  to  the  brave  pony.  The  falling  of  the 
blanket  also  showed  some  white  spots,  left  by  ancient 
saddle  galls.  Hartigan,  after  a  discriminating  glance,  said : 

"Say,  boys,  this  is  their  racer  all  right.  This  is  the 
famous  Buckskin  Cayuse.  He's  a  good  one.  Now  you 
see  why  they  want  him  shod." 

What  a  temptation  it  was  to  the  white  men;  how  easy  it 
would  have  been  for  Shives  to  put  one  nail  in  a  trifle 
deep,  to  send  that  pony  forth  shod — well  shod — but  shod 
so  that  within  the  next  ten  miles  he  would  go  lame, 
and  in  the  race,  a  month  ahead,  fall  far  behind — if,  indeed, 
he  raced  at  all.  Yet,  to  his  credit  be  it  said  that  Shives 
handled  that  pony  as  though  it  were  his  own;  he  gave  him 
every  care,  and  Red  Cloud  paid  the  five  dollars  and  rode 
away  content. 


SHOEING  THE  BUCKSKIN  251 

Jim  gazed  after  the  little  band  as  they  loped  gently 
down  the  street  and  round  the  curve  till  a  bank  cut  off 
the  view.  "Say,  boys,  this  is  great,"  he  said,  "I  wouldn't 
have  missed  it  for  anything.  There's  going  to  be  a  real 
race  this  year." 

There  could  be  no  question  of  that.  The  securing  of 
Blazing  Star  was  a  guarantee  of  a  wonderful  event  if 
widespread  interest  and  fine  horseflesh  could  make  it  so. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
THE  BOOM 

WITH  the  definite  assurance  of  Blazing  Star  being 
entered,  every  man  in  Fort  Ryan  focussed  his 
thoughts  on  how  he  might  best  turn  the  race  to 
account,  wipe  out  the  damage  of  the  last  defeat,  and  recoup 
his  loss  with  a  double  profit.  They  were  very  sorry  for  them 
selves,  most  of  these  losers;  especially  sorry  that  they,  who 
could  really  enjoy  money  and  whohad  actual  need  of  so  much? 
should  lose  their  all  to  a  lot  of  Indians  who  neither  sought 
nor  cared  for  cash  and  whose  only  pleasure  in  the  race  was 
the  gambling  spirit,  the  excitement  of  the  game.  This 
time  the  whites  were  going  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  to 
make  a  "killing."  Every  plan  was  discussed,  and  there 
were  not  lacking  those  who  called  Shives  by  ugly  names — 
behind  his  back — for  not  seizing  on  the  chance,  when  it 
was  so  easily  in  his  hands,  to  put  the  Indian  racer  under 
shadow  of  a  sure  defeat.  But  they  made  no  such  speeches 
when  the  Colonel  was  in  hearing. 

Yet,  after  all,  what  did  it  matter?  They  had  the  ace  in 
their  hands  now.  There  was  no  horse  on  the  plains  could 
run  with  Blazing  Star;  and,  training  with  him,  in  the  best 
of  care,  was  the  Red  Rover,  only  a  little  less  swift  than  the 
Star,  now  that  careful  methods  had  brought  him  his  full- 
grown  strength  and  speed.  Microscopic  studies  were 

252 


THE  BOOM  253 

made  of  every  fact  that  seemed  to  furnish  a  gauge  of  the 
horses'  powers,  and  this  was  clear:  Blazing  Star  was 
easily  first;  Red  Rover  would  make  a  good  second;  and 
the  buckskin  cayuse  could  not  possibly  do  so  well  as  the 
Red  Rover  under  the  new  training  and  lighter  leather 
gear.  Of  course,  the  horse  was  not  to  be  named  until 
the  day  and  hour  of  the  race,  but  it  was  quite  certain  that 
the  Indians  would  enter  the  Buckskin.  Vague  reports 
there  were  of  a  wonderful  pinto  that  the  Red  men  had 
somewhere  in  training;  but  the  Crow  spies  could  furnish 
no  corroboration  of  the  report;  and,  in  any  case,  the  shoe 
ing  of  the  Buckskin  was  a  guarantee  that  the  Indians 
meant  to  enter  him. 

From  all  of  which  there  was  but  one  logical  conclusion. 
So  the  message  went  forth  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  Dakota,  "Come  on,  we've  got  a  dead-sure  thing.  Come 
on,  and  bring  all  you  can  raise  or  borrow."  It  is  wonder 
ful,  the  faith  of  the  racetrack  gamblers  in  a  tip!  Their 
belief  in  the  "hunch"  is  blind  and  absolute;  hope  never 
dies  on  the  racetrack,  even  though,  once  in  a  while,  it 
goes  into  a  very  deathlike  swoon. 

Not  merely  Dakota  responded  to  the  chances  of  the 
coming  race,  but  Wyoming,  Minnesota,  Iowa,  Nebraska, 
yes,  even  Illinois.  And  Cedar  Mountain  post  office 
began  to  have  hopes  of  stepping  up  to  a  higher  round 
on  the  official  scale,  as  the  mail  matter,  registered  and 
special,  poured  in.  Letters  postmarked  "Deadwood" 
came  by  the  score;  others  from  Minneapolis  and  St.  Paul 
were  abundant;  while,  of  course,  there  was  the  usual 
grist  from  Custer  City,  Bismarck,  Pierre,  Sidney,  Cheyenne, 


254    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

and  Denver.  John  and  Hannah  Higginbotham  could  not, 
owing  to  John's  position  as  Church  deacon,  take  an  active 
part  in  the  gambling;  but  they  invented  a  scheme  of 
insurance  on  a  50  per  cent,  premium  basis  which  was 
within  the  Church  law,  though,  when  translated  into 
terms  of  the  track,  it  was  merely  a  two-to-one  bet  on  the 
field. 

The  autumn  race  had  played  havoc  with  so  many  sav 
ings  funds  and  so  much  actual  cash  in  business  that  a  great 
number  of  those  badly  hit  had  vowed  that  they  would 
never  again  go  in;  and  they  clung  to  their  new  resolve 
through  May  and  most  of  June.  But,  as  the  training 
went  on  and  the  talk  went  around,  and  other  men  went  in 
— all  the  wise  ones,  horse-wise,  talk-wise,  and  otherwise — 
the  subtle  fascination  grew  and,  a  month  before  the  race, 
the  same  old  madness  glamoured  every  mind;  the  same 
old  guiding  star — so  often  proved  a  spook-fire,  but  this 
time  surely  a  star — was  leading,  hypnotizing,  shining  just 
ahead.  The  racing  men  once  obsessed,  the  world  of 
half-way  interest  followed  even  faster,  till  near  the  end 
of  June,  except  for  a  few  immune  from  principle  or  poverty, 
the  whole  community  of  South  and  West  Dakota  had  but 
one  talk — the  race,  and  what  they  risked  or  hoped  to 
make  on  it. 

One  must  remember  that  the  West  has  always  been  the 
land  of  boom.  It  is  filled  with  the  energetic  and  enter 
prising  who,  by  a  natural  process,  are  selected  from  the 
peoples  of  the  East;  and  the  stuff  such  booms  feed  on, 
grow  on,  and  grow  mighty  on  as  they  feed,  is  Hope.  Every 
Westerner  knows  that  the  land  is  full  of  possibility,  op- 


X 


THE  BOOM  255 

portunity — free,  equal  opportunity  multiplied;  and  he 
hopes  that  his  name  will  be  the  next  one  called  by  fortune. 
To  respond  to  the  call  at  whatever  cost — to  be  ready 
to  respond — that  is  the  condition  of  life  worth  while.  A 
dozen  bad  defeats  are  passing  trifles  if  the  glad  call  only 
comes  and  one  fail  not  to  rise  to  it.  So  it  is  ever  easy  in  a 
land  of  such  undaunted  souls  to  start  a  boom.  Hope 
never  dies  in  the  West. 

Reader,  I  have  ridden  the  Plains  and  seen  many  a  settler 
living  with  his  family  in  one  small,  dirty  room,  constructed 
out  of  sods  with  a  black  dirt  roof,  and  dirt  and  dust  on 
everything,  on  every  side.  I  have  seen  them  with  little 
food,  pinched  and  sick  and  struggling  with  poverty  and 
famine.  I  have  seen  them  in  every  dreadful  circum 
stance  of  want  and  wasting  pain  that  could  be  named  in 
the  sum  of  horrors  of  the  vilest  Eastern  slum:  and  yet  they 
made  no  bid  for  sympathy  or  help,  or  for  a  moment  lost 
their  pride;  for  one  great  fundamental  difference  there 
was  between  them  and  the  slummers  of  the  East:  the 
prairie  pioneer  is  filled  with  hope!  Hope  gleams  in  his  eye; 
he  lives  in  a  land  of  hope;  he  was  lured  to  the  West  by 
the  blazing  star  of  bright  new  Hope;  just  on  a  little  way 
it  shines  for  him;  and  every  sod  upturned  and  every  posthole 
sunk,  or  seed  put  in,  is  turned  or  sunk  or  sown  in  the  light 
of  strong,  unfading  hope.  Just  a  little  while,  a  few  short 
months,  maybe,  and  he  believes,  he  knows  his  name  will  be 
the  next  one  called. 

O  land  of  hope,  land  of  the  shining  four-rayed  star,  long, 
long  may  you  remain  the  world's  great  vale  of  youth,  where 
none  grow  old  at  heart  or  pray  for  death,  for  none  can 


256   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

ever  wholly  lose  their  glimpse  of  that  beckoning  hope.  The 
fountain  of  eternal  youth  springs  up  and  gushes  'neath  no 
other  light. 

O  star  of  Hope!  O  blessed  Lodestar  of  the  soul!  Long, 
long,  yes,  ages  long  may  you  be  there,  swung  in  the  sky 
for  all  the  world  to  see  and  know  that  while  they  live  and 
will,  there  gleams  a  God-lit  beacon  in  the  West,  the  light 
of  the  land  of  hope. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
WHEN  THE   CRAZE   STRUCK 

BRETHREN  and  sisters,"  said  Dr.  Jebb,  in  the 
Wednesday  meeting  established  for  general  dis 
cussion,  "I  consider  it  my  duty  to  speak  openly 
and  officially  in  condemnation  of  this  outbreak  of  the  fear 
ful,  soul-destroying  vice  of  gambling  that  is  sweeping  over 
the  land,  over  the  country,  over  the  town,  I  might  almost 
say  over  this  congregation.  Never,  in  all  my  experience, 
has  this  inclination  run  so  riotously  insane.  Not  men  of 
the  world  merely,  but  members  of  the  Church;  and  the 
women  and  little  children  who  can  barely  lisp  the  shameful 
word,  are  betting  on  the  race/' 

The  reverend  doctor  had  much  more  to  say  in  fierce 
denunciation,  but  Hartigan,  while  regretting  the  sinfulness 
of  the  habit,  pointed  out  that  this  was  a  land  of  few  pleas 
ures  and  a  land  of  horses ;  and  if,  as  was  natural,  they  sought 
to  get  their  pleasure  out  of  their  horses,  then  surely  Dr. 
Jebb  would  not  consign  them  all  to  hell  for  it,  but  take  a 
view  more  in  line  with  the  Christian  charity  of  the  Church. 

Deacon  Higginbotham  rose  to  expound  his  theory  of 
risk.  Every  man  who  took  a  risk  of  profit  or  loss  was 
gambling;  and  everybody  did  it,  so  all  were  gambling, 
every  one.  "Now,  see,  we  have  a  fire  insurance  risk  on  the 
this  church,  which  means  the  church  is  gambling  against 

257 


258    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Providence.  So,  clearly,  the  gambling  itself  is  not  a  sin,  it 
is  the  accessories  of  gambling  that  make  for  evil.  For  ex 
ample,  if  we  gamble  with  cards,  sitting  up  all  night  in  a 
stuffy  room,  drinking  bad  drinks,  smoking  bad  smokes, 
speaking  bad  words,  neglecting  our  business,  neglecting 
our  morals,  hurting  our  health — then  these  things  are  bad. 
But,  if  we  gamble  out  in  the  sunlight,  on  a  beautiful 
prairie,  on  beautiful  horses — now  please  don't  mistake  me; 
I'm  not  betting  on  the  race — 

Here  Hannah  pulled  his  coat  tail  and  he  sat  down.  The 
fact  of  the  matter  was,  he  had  issued  a  number  of  insur 
ance  policies  on  the  race,  and  was  quite  ready  to  issue  any 
number  more. 

It  was  well  known  that  Dr.  Jebb  had  invested  his 
little  savings  in  Deadwood  town  plots;  and  when  Dr. 
Carson  rose  and  asked  if  any  one  present  had  ever  risked 
money  on  a  probable  rise  in  town  plots — gambled,  in  fact, 
on  the  chances  of  a  boom — Dr.  Jebb  turned  scarlet  and  Dr. 
Carson  laughed  outright.  Whereupon  the  Rev.  James 
Hartigan  whispered  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jebb,  who  nodded; 
and  the  Reverend  James,  standing  up,  said:  "Let  us  close 
the  meeting  with  prayer." 

If  the  Church — with  all  its  immunities,  safeguards,  anti 
toxins,  influences,  warnings,  prophylactics,  creeds,  vows, 
exposures,  denunciations,  traditions,  and  holy  leaders — 
should  become  infected  with  aggressive  interest  in  the 
speed  contest  to  the  extent  of  outward  and  visible  material 
risk,  what  was  likely  to  be  the  condition  of  the  ungodly? 
It  is  said  that  the  real  estate  boom  of  Minneapolis  and  the 
gold  craze  of  Deadwood  were  psychological  trivialties,  com- 


WHEN  THE  CRAZE  STRUCK  259 

pared  with  the  sudden  great  boom  in  betting  that  set  in 
during  the  last  week  of  June  at  the  Black  Hills;  and  the 
only  reason  why  the  wagering  cataclysm  was  less  disastrous 
than  it  threatened  to  be  was  because  it  ended  quickly. 

Fifty  thousand  dollars  of  treaty  money  was  in  the  hands 
of  Red  Cloud  and  his  people;  fifty  thousand  more  went  to 
the  Cheyennes  under  Howling  Bull.  The  ranchmen  were 
ready  with  an  equal  sum,  and  Fort  Ryan  was  not  far  be 
hind.  By  noon  the  fifty  thousand  dollars  had  been  dis 
tributed  to  the  Indians;  by  one  o'clock  every  cent  of  it  was 
put  up  on  the  race  in  equal  bets.  Who  was  to  be  stake 
holder  ?  How  much  was  each  stake  to  be  held  or  awarded  ? 
These  were  problems  of  some  intricacy  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  the  Indians  could  not  read  a  word  or  trust  any  white 
man  except  the  Indian  Agent  and  Father  Cyprian,  the 
Jesuit  missionary,  both  of  whom  declined  to  have  any  hand 
or  part  in  the  matter. 

The  plan  devised  by  Red  Cloud  and  accepted  by  the 
whites  was  as  follows:  every  pair  of  stakes  was  tied  to 
gether  and  marked  with  two  names,  the  white  man's  and 
the  Indian's — the  latter's  mark  or  totem  being  used.  They 
then  were  piled  up  in  a  lone  tepee,  half  way  between  the 
Fort  and  the  Indian  camp,  and  the  tepee  put  under  guard 
of  an  Indian  and  a  white  soldier.  The  understanding  was 
that  as  soon  as  the  race  was  over  the  winners  should  take 
possession  of  the  lodge  and  distribute  the  contents  among 
themselves,  as  indicated  by  the  marks. 

There  was  nearly  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  cash 
piled  up  in  that  Indian  lodge  in  twin  bunches.  Of  course, 
it  was  easy  to  arrange  the  money  that  way,  and  possible  to 


26o    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

make  bundles  of  robes,  bridles,  beadwork,  buckskin, 
pemmican,  and  weapons.  It  was  even  practical  to  pair  off 
ploughs  and  bureaux;  but  the  difficulties  became  huge  and 
complex  when  horse  was  wagered  against  horse,  or  cow 
against  cow,  and  even  more  so  when  cow  was  put  up 
against  horse;  for,  obviously,  they  could  not  be  laid  away 
in  pairs,  pending  the  decision;  so  that  an  elaborate  sort  of 
tally  stick  was  instituted  with  some  success,  but  even  so  a 
number  of  disputes  ensued. 

There  was  not  a  trooper  who  did  not  wager  all  the  cash  he 
had  or  could  by  any  means  get.  There  was  not  an  officer 
who  was  not  dragged  in  by  the  growing  power  of  the  craze. 
And  daily,  parties  of  Indians  came  to  the  Fort  to  put  up 
cash,  or  peer  around  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  horses.  The 
whites  made  no  attempt  this  time  to  spy  on  the  Indians — 
their  last  experience  had  not  been  very  encouraging.  Any 
way,  why  should  they?  They  had  all  the  cards  in  their 
hands.  The  shoeing  of  the  Buckskin,  the  known  impor 
tation  of  oats  and  timothy,  the  absence  of  reliable  proof 
that  the  Indians  had  any  other  horse,  were  conclusive  on 
that  side;  and  on  their  own,  the  Rover  could  beat  the 
Buckskin,  even  as  Blazing  Star  could  beat  Rover;  so,  al 
lowing  for  an  accident,  they  had  two  winning  horses  to 
choose  from. 

John  Higginbotham,  who  represented  the  bankers  of  the 
little  wooden  Bank  of  Cedar  Mountain,  had  to  send  to 
Deadwood  for  a  fresh  supply  of  mortgage  blanks,  an  assis 
tant  inspector  of  risks,  and  all  the  cash  they  could  spare 
for  the  present  need.  Colonel  Waller  began  to  take  alarm. 
The  men  were  mortgaging  their  pay  for  months  ahead,  al- 


WHEN  THE  CRAZE  STRUCK  261 

though  many  were  still  in  debt  from  the  autumn  before. 
One  young  officer  whose  pay  was  pledged  for  a  year  in  ad 
vance  did  not  hesitate  to  pledge  for  the  following  year,  so 
sure  was  he. 

As  early  as  the  middle  of  June,  the  long  lines  of  mounted 
men  with  prairie  schooners  were  seen  crawling  over  the 
plain  to  northward  and  eastward,  while  down  the  moun 
tain  roads  came  Indian  bands  in  ever-growing  numbers. 
The  authorities  might  well  have  taken  alarm  but  for  the 
fact  that  the  gathering  was  to  be  at  Fort  Ryan  where  there 
were  ample  troops  to  deal  with  any  possible  situation.  Then 
over  the  hills  from  the  south  came  Red  Cloud  with  all  his 
clan,  and  many  more  besides.  Mounted  men  in  hundreds, 
with  travois  and  different  kinds  of  carts,  carrying  tepees, 
provisions,  household  goods,  and  with  them — straggling 
off  or  driven  by  the  mounted  boys — were  herds  of  prairie 
ponies,  in  scores  or  even  hundreds,  the  Red  men's  real 
wealth,  brought  now  to  stake,  they  fondly  hoped,  against 
the  horses  of  the  regiment  at  Fort  Ryan.  On  the  old 
camp  ground  by  the  river  below  the  Fort,  the  Indians 
pitched  their  village,  and  every  day  came  others  of  their 
race  to  set  up  lodges,  and  add  to  the  lively  scene.  On  the 
other  side  was  a  growing  canvas  town  of  whites  with  every 
kind  of  sharper  and  blackleg  that  the  surrounding  settle 
ments  could  contribute  from  their  abundant  shady  popu 
lation. 

Prominent  among  the  visitors  at  Fort  Ryan  was  the 
Indian  Commissioner,  with  the  local  agent  as  his  assistant. 
He  opened  a  temporary  office  in  the  barracks,  and  the 
morning  of  his  arrival  many  a  lively  scene  took  place 


262    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

as  gorgeously  dressed  bucks,  with  wives  and  interpreter, 
gathered  there  to  receive  their  treaty  money.  Although 
the  Colonel  was  careful  to  exclude  all  liquor  dealers  and 
known  sharpers  from  the  Fort  during  the  issue  of  the  cash, 
he  could  not  exclude  them  from  the  Dakota  prairie,  and 
they  were  hanging  about  everywhere  with  their  unholy 
wares  and  methods.  Firewater  was,  of  course,  the  most 
dangerous  snare;  but  a  great  deal  of  trick  robbery  was 
carried  on  with  gaudy  knick-knacks  for  which  unbelievable 
prices  were  asked  and  got.  The  Indians  might  have  parted 
with  all  their  cash  on  that  morning  but  for  the  need  they 
felt  of  having  it  to  cover  their  bets  on  the  race. 

Red  Cloud  and  his  counsellors  had  been  many  times  to 
Colonel  Waller's  house.  They  had  come  with  money 
bets,  they  had  come  with  promises,  and  now  they  came 
with  horses,  eager  to  bet  horse  against  horse  for  the  mounts 
of  all  the  regiment.  The  Indian  chief  did  not  understand 
the  Colonel's  refusal  until  he  was  told  that  a  mythical 
Great  High  Chief  named  Unca-Sam  was  the  owner  of 
the  cavalry  mounts — that  though  Unca-Sam  was  over 
a  hundred  years  old,  he  was  a  young  man  yet  and 
knew  all  that  was  done  in  the  West.  Then  it  slowly 
dawned  on  Red  Cloud  that  these  men  were  riding  horses 
that  did  not  belong  to  them;  he  despised  them  for  it,  but 
his  Indian  honesty  made  him  see  how  impossible  it  was  to 
bet  the  horses  that  they  did  not  own.  However,  he  man 
aged  to  stake  a  throng  of  ponies  against  the  cattle  of  the 
ranchers,  and  thus  the  wealth  of  one  side  was  staked 
against  that  of  the  other. 

Next  morning  saw  many  wagons  come  to  the  Fort,  with 


WHEN  THE  CRAZE  STRUCK  263 

squaws  beside  their  Indian  drivers.  They  stopped  at  the 
Colonel's  house,  the  covers  were  removed,  and  great  piles 
of  beadwork,  coats,  leggings,  moccasins,  baskets,  war- 
clubs,  and  other  characteristic  things  of  Indian  work 
were  revealed.  It  was  made  clear  that  these  were  offered 
as  stakes;  would  the  whites  match  up  the  goods?  In  a 
spirit  of  fun,  at  first,  the  women  of  the  Fort,  as  well  as  the 
men,  began  offering  household  goods  or  personal  gear;  a 
frying  pan  against  a  baby-bag,  a  pair  of  corsets  against  a 
medicine  flute,  a  bureau  against  a  war  bonnet.  Then, 
bitten  by  the  craze,  they  kept  on  till  everything  was 
matched  and  all  the  goods  tied  up  in  bundles,  according  to 
the  established  custom,  to  lie  in  the  big,  special  tepee 
under  guard. 

Another  band  of  Red  men  followed  with  some  tepees 
that  they  offered  against  government  tents  and,  on  being 
refused,  finally  wagered  them  against  provender  and  hay. 
Each  day  there  were  new  offers  as  groups  of  Indians  came 
to  the  Fort,  so  that  as  soon  as  an  Indian  outfit  on  wheels 
came  slowly  up,  it  was  quite  understood  that  it  was  bring 
ing  new  material  to  put  up  on  the  race.  It  was  toward  the 
end  of  the  time  that  Red  Cloud  and  his  retinue  came 
again,  riding  in  much  solemnity.  Ignoring  all  others,  he 
went  to  Colonel  Waller's  house  and,  in  his  usual  deliberate 
way,  after  smoking,  he  began: 

"Maybe  so,  you  bet  big?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  was  Waller's  answer. 

"Good.  We  bet  all  Dakota.  You  bet  United  States. 
Maybe  so — yes?" 

"No,  no,"  laughed  the  Colonel. 


264    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"You  win,  we  go  away  out  west.  We  win,  you  all  go 
back  east.  Maybe  so — yes?" 

"No,"  said  the  Colonel.  "I  am  only  a  little  chief.  The 
Great  High  Chief,  Unca-Sam,  would  not  allow  it." 

Red  Cloud  smoked  a  while,  then  resumed : 

"Heap  afraid,  maybe  so?"  Then,  after  a  pause,  "We 
bet  Pine  Ridge,  you  bet  Fort  Ryan — yes?" 

Again  the  Colonel  had  to  protest  that  only  the  Great 
Father  Unca-Sam  could  deal  in  such  matters;  and  Red 
Cloud  grunted,  "Heap  scared,"  made  a  gesture  of  im 
patience,  and  rode  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 
JIM'S  BET 

JIM  HARTIGAN  had  as  little  interest  in  money  as 
any  Indian.  All  the  things  he  loved  and  the 
pleasures  he  sought  were  the  things  that  money  could 
not  buy.  He  wanted  to  ride  and  race,  be  alive,  to  love 
and  be  loved,  to  get  the  noblest  animal  joys,  and  soar  a 
little — just  a  little — in  the  realm  of  higher  things.  Money 
as  a  power  had  not  been  listed  in  his  mind,  till  a  chance 
remark  from  Belle  gave  a  wholly  different  trend  to  his 
thoughts. 

"Jim,  if  I  had  about  a  thousand  dollars,  I  think  I'd  be 
tempted  to  risk  it.  I'd  go  to  Deadwood  and  start  a  pro 
duce  commission  business  there." 

That  was  all  she  said,  and  it  was  spoken  lightly,  but 
her  words  sank  deep  in  Hartigan's  mind. 

"A  thousand  dollars  might,  after  all,  spell  heaven"; 
and  he  pondered  it  long  and  hard.  As  mere  business,  it 
would  not  have  held  his  thought  an  hour;  but  as  a  way  to 
bring  the  happy  time  more  near,  it  filled  his  mind  for  days, 
but  he  told  her  nothing  of  it.  It  was  in  the  blacksmith 
shop  that  the  next  step  was  suggested.  John  Higgin- 
botham  had  the  floor;  as  he  entered,  Jim  heard  him  say 
to  some  one  in  the  crowd : 

"I'm  no  betting  man.  As  a  deacon  of  the  Church,  I 

265 


266    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

cannot  countenance  betting.  As  an  insurance  agent, 
however,  I  am  quite  ready,  in  all  fairness,  to  negotiate 
your  risk.  You  simply  take  out  a  policy  on  the — ah — • 
event,  reflecting  your  judgment  of  the  probabilities 
You  pay  your  premium — 100  per  cent,  or  whatever  it  is — 
and  I,  as  your  agent,  place  this  risk  with  some  established 
company,  or  responsible  person  sufficiently  furnished 
with  capital,  to  assume  the  liability.  Then,  as  in  the  case 
of  fire,  or  marine,  or  other  insurance,  the  event  decides 
the  issue,  and  the  insured  draws  his  insurance  in  ac 
cordance  with  the  terms,  less  the  modest  5  per  cent,  that 
I  receive  for  my  perfectly  legitimate  trouble  and  expense." 
Jim  had  never  seen  it  in  that  light  before;  he  rather  liked 
the  idea.  After  all,  he  was  heart  and  soul  in  the  race 
His  joy  in  Blazing  Star  was  hardly  less  than  it  had  been; 
and  why  not  manifest  it  in  a  way  which  held  in  it  the  pos 
sibilities  of  the  wealth  he  needed  ?  Why  not  take  out  an 
insurance  policy  on  Blazing  Star's  winning?  He  thought 
of  it  more  and  more,  and  a  few  days  later  when  he  was 
depressed  for  once,  Belle  out  of  town,  and  the  gloomy 
prospect  of  college  before  him,  he  drew  his  precious  five 
hundred  dollars  from  the  bank  and  took  it  to  John  Higgin- 
botham  to  deposit  as  his  premium  on  insurance  that  the 
white  men's  horse  would  win  the  race.  He  had  a  feeling 
that  Belle  would  not  approve.  But  he  did  not  tell  her 
about  it,  for  he  wanted  to  surprise  her  when  he  should 
walk  proudly  up  and  put  in  her  hand  the  one  thousand 
dollars  that  would  surely  be  his.  He  felt  sure,  but  not 
happy;  his  judgment  said  "go  ahead";  his  instincts  called 
a  halt;  but  he  went  ahead. 


JIM'S  BET  267 

Next  day  he  went  to  Higginbotham.  Hannah  was 
there  and  a  look  from  the  deacon  kept  the  Preacher  quiet 
on  the  matter.  When  a  chance  came,  the  former  said: 

'Tain't  so  easy  now,  Jim.  Every  one  knows  the  white 
men's  horse  is  going  to  win,  and  there  are  no  more  even 
takers.  I'm  afraid  the  best  I  can  do  is  offer  you  a  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollar  insurance  with  a  five  hundred 
dollar  premium  down,  and  your  premium  back,  of  course, 
if  you  collect  the  insurance,  less  my  regular  commission." 

"All  right,"  said  Jim,  a  little  disappointed  "let  it  go  at 
that,"  and  away  he  went. 

Hannah  did  not  usually  take  a  daily  part  in  the  office 
unless  John  was  away;  but  something  about  Hartigan's 
visit  prompted  her  to  look  more  keenly  through  the  books. 
It  was  her  first  knowledge  of  the  new  kind  of  "insurance" 
and  she  and  John  talked  it  out. 

"All  the  companies  are  doing  it  now.  It's  no  risk  for 
us.  We'll  get  over  two  thousand  dollars  in  commissions 
anyhow."  But  Hannah  was  not  content.  She  went  over 
every  item  and  presently  she  came  on  Hartigan's  five 
hundred,  offered  two  to  one. 

"Humph!"  she  said,  "does  Belle  know  about  this  in 
surance  business?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  John  uneasily. 

"She  ought  to  know." 

"If  she  makes  him  withdraw,  we  lose  our  5  per  cent.," 
said  John,  knowing  quite  well  that  that  would  hit  Hannah 
very  hard. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Hannah,  "I'm  going  to  tell  her." 

It  gave  Belle  a  decided  shock.     It  also  explained  to  her 


268    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Jim's  peculiar  behaviour  during  the  last  two  days.  Here 
was  where  his  horse  mania  was  leading  him.  She  was 
not  deceived  by  the  glib  terms  of  "insurance,"  nor  as  to  the 
certainty  of  scandal,  but  she  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  go  direct  to  him;  and  yet,  that 
would  put  her  in  the  position  of  a  spy  with  a  charge  of 
treachery.  No,  that  would  be  stupid.  It  was  such  an 
assumption  of  mastery,  and  such  an  exposure  of  Hannah's 
business  impropriety  as  well  that  she  hesitated;  then,  in  a 
flash,  she  said: 

"Hannah,  I  have  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  of  my 
chicken  money  in  the  bank;  I  was  saving  it  for  something 
very  different.  I'll  take  that  'insurance.'  But  not  a 
word  at  present  of  who  it  was  that  took  it.  If  you  must 
give  a  name,  say  his  insurance  was  taken  up  by  'Two 
Strikes. '  And  in  her  heart  she  thought:  "It  is  not  my 
road;  it  is  not  a  good  road;  but  it  is  his  road,  and  I'll 
take  it  till  I  bring  him  back." 


CHAPTER  XL 
THE  CROW  BAND 

EVEN  far  Montana  heard  the  news,  and,  winding 
through  the  hills,  there  came  one  day  a  band  of 
Crows  from  their  reservation  on  the  Big  Horn. 
They  came  with  only  their  light  travelling  tepees;  and  the 
intense  dislike  in  which  they  are  held  by  the  Sioux  and 
Cheyennes  was  shown  in  the  fact  that  they  camped  far 
away  in  a  group  by  themselves. 

The  Crows  are  noted  for  their  beautiful  lodges  and  their 
inveterate  habit  of  horse  stealing.  They  also  have  this 
unique  fact  on  their  record — that  they  have  never  been  at 
war  with  the  whites.  They  will  steal  a  white  man's  horses 
fast  enough,  but  they  have  never  tried  to  take  a  white 
scalp.  Their  party  consisted  chiefly  of  men  and  a  few 
surplus  horses.  But  for  the  lodges  and  a  few  women,  it 
might  have  passed  for  a  war  party. 

The  Crows  are  among  the  numerous  claimants  of  the 
title  "best  horsemen  in  the  world."  If  reckless  riding  in 
dangerous  places  without  being  thrown  is  good  ground  for 
the  claim,  then  is  the  claim  good;  and  it  becomes  yet 
stronger  in  view  of  the  fact  that  most  of  their  riding  is  bare 
backed.  When  they  came  to  the  Fort  that  day  it  was  as 
though  they  were  riding  for  their  lives.  They  were  but  a 
score  and  were  admitted  without  question.  They  paid 

269 


270    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

their  respects  to  Colonel  Waller  and  then,  after  smoking, 
announced  that  they  had  money  and  goods  to  bet  on  the 
race.  They  were  disappointed  to  find  how  much  too  late 
they  were;  everything  was  already  up.  So  they  rode 
away. 

They  did  not  go  near  the  Sioux  and  Cheyenne  camp;  not 
that  there  was  much  danger  of  their  suffering  bodily  harm, 
but  they  had  been  unmistakably  informed  that  they  were 
not  welcome,  though  the  action  went  no  further  than  ig 
noring  them.  Next  morning,  when  Blazing  Star  and  Red 
Rover  were  doing  their  turn,  there  were  no  keener  on 
lookers  than  the  Crows.  By  look  and  grunted  word  they 
showed  their  appreciation  of  the  noble  brutes. 

The  Chief  came  to  the  Fort  to  find  out  if  the  Colonel 
would  sell  Blazing  Star  after  the  race. 

"We  give  twenty  horses,"  and  he  held  up  both  hands 
twice. 

"No." 

"Three  hands  ponies,"  and  they  held  up  both  hands 
spread  three  times. 

"No,  he  is  not  for  sale." 

Late  that  day  Red  Cloud  and  Howling  Bull  came  to 
Colonel  Waller  and,  after  preliminaries,  conveyed  the  in 
formation  and  warning:  "All  Crows  heap  big  thief.  You 
watch  him;  he  steal  horse  every  time,  heap  no  good." 

The  third  of  July  came,  and  the  plain  looked  like  a  city 
of  tents.  Many  traders  were  there  to  open  temporary 
stores;  and  it  is  doubtful  if  any  single  race  in  the  Western 
world  has  attracted  more  people  or  created  intenser  in 
terest.  The  Cheyennes  gave  a  great  dance  in  honour  of 


THE  CROW  BAND  271 

the  Sun.  They  invited  all  the  Sioux  to  come,  and  the 
whites  invited  themselves.  Belle  and  Jim  were  there  and 
saw  much  to  please  and  much  to  disgust  them.  The 
general  impression  was  one  of  barbaric  splendour,  weird 
chanting,  noisy  tom-toms,  and  hypnotic  pulsation.  It 
was  mostly  repellent,  but  sometimes  the  rhythm  stirred 
them,  and  provoked  a  response  which  showed  that  the 
wild  musicians  were  playing  on  instincts  and  impulses  that 
are  as  wide  as  humanity. 

Most  horsemen  like  to  keep  their  training  ground  in  some 
sort  private;  but  the  garrison  had  given  up  all  attempts  at 
that,  so  far  as  Blazing  Star  and  Red  Rover  were  concerned. 
Every  one  knew,  every  one  was  interested,  and  each  day 
there  was  an  eager  crowd  waiting  to  feast  their  eyes  on  the 
two  splendid  racers.  And  they  were  well  worth  it.  Even 
Jim  had  to  acknowledge  that  Blazing  Star  was  looking 
better  now  than  ever  before. 

"Look  at  that  neck,  Belle,  see  how  it  arches,  see  the 
clean  limbs;  isn't  he  trained  to  perfection?  If  I  only — 
if—  "  then  he  stopped  himself. 

As  he  fondly  watched  the  horse  with  glowing  eyes,  he 
said:  "Of  course,  we  don't  know  anything  at  all  about 
where  or  how  he  was  bred,  but  I  should  say  that  that  is 
a  blood  Kentucky,  nearly  pure — Kentucky  gold  dust." 

Among  the  spectators  were  the  two  Indian  Chiefs  in 
their  warpaint — Red  Cloud  of  the  Sioux,  and  Howling  Bull 
of  the  Cheyennes.  They  spoke  little  to  each  other,  for 
neither  knew  the  other's  tongue;  but  they  made  little 
gestures  of  the  sign  language,  and  any  keen  observer  know 
ing  it  could  catch  the  ideo-signs:  "Good,  good;  by  and  by; 


272    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

we  see  good  race;  brave,  swift,"  and  so  on.  Later:  "Yes, 
after  one  sleep.  Rain  heap,  yes." 

Jim  watched  them  closely.  "See  that,  Belle?  he  says: 
'To-morrow  it  rain  heap/  I  wonder  how  he  knows.  They 
call  the  Fourth  of  July  the  Big  Wet  Sunday,  because  it 
usually  rains  then.  I  wonder  how  it  will  affect  the  race." 

"Jim,  you  said  they  had  shod  the  buckskin  cayuse  in 
expectation  of  a  wet  track." 

"Yes;  that's  a  mystery;  how  can  they  tell?  The  air  is 
full  of  rumours,  anyway.  Chamreau  says  that  Red  Cloud 
has  been  seeking  everywhere  for  fast  horses.  He  had  a 
man  go  as  far  as  Omaha  and  another  to  Denver.  Some  say 
he  did  pick  up  a  racer,  a  half-blooded  Kentucky — some 
that  he  had  got  a  wonderful  pinto  cayuse  from  Cheyenne; 
this  latter  is  the  more  persistent  rumour,  though  Cham 
reau  says  he  can't  find  any  one  who  has  actually  seen  one 
or  the  other.  Anyhow,  no  one  knows  what  their  entry  will 
be.  We  have  a  pretty  good  idea  of  .ours";  and  Hartigan 
smiled  proudly. 

The  two  chiefs,  with  their  followers,  conversed  earnestly, 
and  with  much  gesture.  They  looked  and  pointed  at  the 
Crow  camp  and  the  rain  sign  came  in  many  times,  and 
emphatically.  The  old  feud  between  the  Sioux  and  the 
Crows  had  broken  out  afresh  in  a  trader's  store.  Two 
young  men  from  the  opposing  camps  had  quarrelled- 
They  had  drawn  their  knives,  and  each  had  been  wounded. 
These  things  were  common  talk,  and  Belle  and  Jim  watched 
the  two  chiefs  ride  toward  the  Crow  camp  with  an  eager 
curiosity  to  know  more  about  it.  When  the  Red  men  were 
a  mile  away  and  within  half  a  mile  of  the  Crow  village, 


THE  CROW  BAND  273 

they  followed  at  a  good  pace  and  reached  the  tepees  in  the 
secluded  corner  in  time  to  see  the  two  visiting  chiefs  mak 
ing  an  address  mainly  by  signs,  as  they  sat  on  their  horses. 
Chamreau  was  there,  and  in  answer  to  Jim's  question 
translated  Red  Cloud's  address  to  the  Crows  thus: 

"You  make  bad  medicine  so  we  lose  race,  we  kill  you." 
Then,  indicating  Howling  Bull,  "He  say,  'you  make  bad 
medicine,  bring  rain,  I  kill  you." 

Having  delivered  their  ultimatum,  the  visiting  chiefs 
turned  haughtily  and  rode  to  their  own  camp. 

"I  don't  know  just  what  they  really  did  say,"  said 
Hartigan,  "but  if  I'm  any  judge  of  looks,  there'll  be  trouble 
here  if  those  Crows  don't  get  out." 


It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  Fourth  of  July 
when  the  thunderbolt  struck  Fort  Ryan.  It  was  not  very 
loud;  it  damaged  no  building;  but  it  struck  the  very  souls 
of  men.  A  thousand  thunder  claps,  a  year's  tornadoes  in 
an  hour,  could  not  have  been  more  staggering;  and  yet  it 
was  only  four  words  of  one  poor,  wheezing  Irish  hostler  at 
the  Colonel's  window: 

"Colonel!  Colonel!  For  the  love  of  God — come — 
come — come  at  once — Blazing  Star  is  gone  !  " 

"  What  ?  "  and  the  Colonel  sprang  up. 

The  reveille  had  sounded,  the  men  were  just  ris 
ing;  but  one  group  there  was  already  about  the  stable 
talking  with  an  air  of  intense  excitement.  The  Colonel 
went  without  waiting  to  dress — the  officer  of  the  day  with 
him.  In  terrible  silence  they  hurried  to  the  stable;  there 


274    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

was  Rover  in  his  box,  whinnying  softly  for  his  morning 
oats;  but  the  next — the  box  of  Blazing  Star — was  empty; 
and  the  far  end,  the  outer  wall,  showed  a  great  new  door 
way  cut.  Beyond,  out  in  the  growing  light,  troopers  rode 
to  every  near-by  lookout;  but  never  a  sign  of  horse  did  they 
see,  or,  indeed,  expect  to  see.  The  case  was  very  clear; 
the  horse  was  stolen,  gone  clean  away — their  hope  for  the 
race  was  gone. 

These  were  terrible  moments  for  the  hapless  grooms  and 
guards.  Human  nature,  in  dire  defeat,  always  demands  a 
victim;  and  the  grooms  were  glad  to  be  locked  up  in  the 
guard  house,  where  at  least  they  were  out  of  the  storm  of 
the  Colonel's  wrath.  As  the  light  grew  brighter  a  careful 
study  laid  bare  the  plan  of  robbery.  The  stables  formed, 
in  part,  the  outer  wall  of  the  quadrangle.  They  were 
roofed  with  pine  boards,  covered  with  tar-paper  on  cedar 
corner  posts;  the  walls,  however,  were  of  sods  piled 
squarely  on  each  other  in  a  well-known  Western  style, 
making  a  good  warm  stable.  It  was  a  simple  matter  to 
take  down  quickly  and  silently  this  outer  wall  from  the 
outside,  beginning  at  the  top,  and  so  make  another  exit. 
This  had  been  done  in  the  dead  of  night.  And  the  track  of 
the  racer  told  the  tale  like  a  printed  page. 

A  general  alarm  had  gone  forth;  all  the  Fort  was  astir; 
and  the  army  scouts  were  by  the  case  forced  into  unusual 
prominence.  It  was  Al  Rennie  spoke  first: 

"Colonel,  it's  a-going  to  rain,  sure;  it's  liable  to  rain 
heavy.  I  suggest  we  take  that  trail  right  away  and  follow 
before  it's  all  washed  out." 

"The  quicker  the  better,"  said  the  Colonel. 


THE  CROW  BAND  275 

Riding  ahead  on  the  trail  like  a  hound  went  the  old 
trapper-hunter-scout  with  a  band  of  troopers  following. 
They  had  not  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  the  rain  began 
to  spit.  But  the  line  of  the  trail  was  clear  and  it  was  easy 
for  the  practised  eye  to  follow.  It  headed  east  for  half  a 
mile,  then,  on  a  hard  open  stretch  of  gravel,  it  turned  and 
went  direct  for  the  Crow  camp.  Rennie  could  follow  at 
a  gallop;  they  rounded  the  butte,  cleared  the  cotton- 
woods,  crossed  the  little  willow-edged  stream,  and  reached 
the  Crow  camp  to  find  it  absolutely  deserted! 

The  rain  was  now  falling  faster;  in  a  few  minutes  it  set 
in — a  true  Dakota  flood.  The  trail  of  Blazing  Star — clear 
till  then — was  now  wholly  wiped  out.  There  was  noth 
ing  but  the  unmarked  prairie  around  them;  and  the  guide, 
with  the  troopers,  soaked  to  the  skin,  rode  back  with  the 
forlorn  tidings. 


CHAPTER  XLI 
THE   PINTO 

UNDER  such  a  cloud  of  disaster  men  cared  little 
what  the  weather  was;  the  deluge  of  rain  seemed 
rather  appropriate.  There  was  even  a  hope  that 
it  might  rain  hard  enough  to  postpone  the  race.  But  at 
ten  it  stopped,  and  by  eleven  it  had  cleared  off  wholly. 
The  race  was  to  be  at  noon. 

Word  had  been  sent  to  Red  Cloud,  asking  for  two  days' 
postponement,  which  was  curtly  refused.  "White  man 
heap  scared  maybe,"  was  his  scornful  reply. 

The  Colonel  held  a  hasty  council  of  war  with  his  officers. 
Their  course  was  clear.  In  Red  Rover  they  still  had  a 
winner  and  the  race  would  come  off  as  announced;  such 
a  horse  as  Blazing  Star  could  not  long  be  concealed;  they 
would  follow  up  the  Crows  and  recover  him  in  a  few  days. 
So,  after  all,  the  outlook  was  not  so  very  dark. 

Already  the  plain  was  surging  with  life.  Gaily-clad 
Indians  were  riding  at  speed  for  the  pleasure  of  speeding. 
Thousands  of  gaudy  blankets — put  out  to  air  in  the  sun — 
seemed  to  double  the  density,  colour,  and  importance  of 
the  camp.  New  wagons  came  with  their  loads,  new  life 
developed;  now  came  a  procession  of  Indians  singing  their 
racing  songs,  for  the  Indian  has  a  song  for  every  event  in 
life;  bodies  of  United  States  troops  were  paraded  here  and 

276 


THE  PINTO  277 

there  as  a  precautionary  and  impressive  measure;  the 
number  of  Indians  assembled,  and  their  excitability,  began 
to  cause  the  authorities  some  apprehension. 

The  Boyds  were  there  in  their  democrat  and  had 
brought  picnic  food  for  all  day;  but  Hartigan  was  a  special 
favourite  at  the  Fort,  and  he,  with  Belle,  was  invited  to 
join  its  hospitable  garrison  mess,  where  social  life  was  in 
gala  mood.  It  was  an  experience  for  Belle,  for  she  had  not 
realized  before  how  absolutely  overwhelming  a  subject  the 
horse  race  could  be  among  folk  whose  interests  lay  that 
way,  and  whose  lives,  otherwise,  were  very  monotonous. 
She  was  a  little  shocked  to  note  that  every  one  of  the  wives 
at  the  table  was  betting  on  the  race — in  some  cases,  for 
considerable  money.  The  one  restraining  force  in  the1  case 
was  the  absence  of  takers,  since  all  were  backing  Red  Rover. 

An  amusing  incident  occurred  when,  during  the  meal,  a 
bead-eyed  young  squaw  entered  the  mess  room  and  stood  a 
little  inside  the  door. 

"What  does  she  want?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

Then  the  interpreter:  "She  wants  to  bet  on  the  race. 
She  wants  to  bet  her  baby  against  yours." 

A  pretty  good  proof  of  a  sure  thing,  for  no  race  loves  its 
children  more  than  the  red  folk.  An  Indian  has  no  com 
punction  whatever  in  staking  his  treaty  money,  which 
comes  so  easily  and  may  as  lightly  go;  he  does  not  hesitate 
to  risk  all  his  wealth,  for  after  all  wealth  is  a  burden;  he  will 
even  wager  his  wife,  if  the  game  possesses  him;  but  he  is 
very  shy  of  staking  his  children.  He  does  it  on  occasion, 
but  only  when  he  considers  it  a  foregone  result — a  certainty 
of  winning. 


278    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

The  Indian  Agent  had  many  close  conferences  with  the 
Colonel.  He  strongly  disapproved  the  whole  racing  ex 
citement  and  plainly  indicated  that  he  held  the  Colonel 
responsible.  What  would  happen  when  these  excited 
fifteen  hundred  Sioux  and  Cheyenne  warriors — not  to 
speak  of  some  five  thousand  women  and  children — met  de 
feat,  was  a  serious  problem.  Had  the  situation  been 
sooner  realized,  the  whites  could  have  organized  into  some 
sort  of  home  defense.  Red  Cloud  and  Howling  Bull,  so  far 
as  could  be  discerned,  contemplated  the  scene,  and  the 
coming  event,  with  absolute  composure. 

Huge  pools  of  water  had  blue-patched  the  racetrack 
after  the  downpour;  but  these  had  drained  off  to  a  great  ex 
tent,  leaving  the  track  a  little  greasy  perhaps,  but  quite 
usable;  and  Jim  recalled  with  interest  the  shoeing  of  the 
Buckskin.  "This  was  what  it  was  for;  how  did  the  hea 
thens  know  it  was  coming?"  By  mutual  agreement,  at 
length,  the  race  was  postponed  for  two  hours,  which,  under 
such  a  sun,  would  bring  the  track  back  nearly  to  normal; 
and  since  the  Indians  had  had  the  Buckskin  shod,  it  was 
the  same  for  both.  It  was  decided  that  the  start  should  be 
made  when  the  sun  was  over  Inyan  Kara,  the  tallest  of  the 
hills  in  sight  to  the  west;  this  meant,  as  nearly  as  possible, 
at  four  o'clock. 

At  two  o'clock  all  the  world  seemed  there.  There  were 
mounted  Indians — men  and  women — by  thousands,  and 
at  least  a  thousand  mounted  whites  besides  the  soldiers. 
The  plain  was  dotted  with  life  and  colour  from  far  beyond 
the  Indian  camp  to  Fort  Ryan;  but  the  centre  of  all  was 
the  racetrack;  and  camped  alongside,  or  riding  or  sitting 


THE  PINTO  279 

near,  was  the  thickest  group  of  folk  of  both  races,  bound  to 
lose  no  glimpse  of  the  stirring  contest. 

The  delay  made  for  new  excitement;  the  nerve  strain  be 
came  greater  as  each  hour  passed.  The  white  soldiers  did 
what  they  could  to  hold  the  crowd,  and  the  Indians  called 
on  their  own  "Dog  Soldiers"  or  camp  police  to  do  the 
same.  Fortunately,  it  was  a  good-natured  crowd;  and  the 
absconding  of  the  Crows  had  removed  the  largest  element 
of  risk,  so  far  as  violence  was  concerned.  Jim  was  ablaze 
with  the  wildest  of  them  all.  He  rode  away  and  back  at  a 
gallop  to  work  it  off.  Belle  was  too  tired  to  join  these 
boisterous  runs,  so  he  rode  alone  at  first.  But  another 
woman  rider  was  there;  from  the  crowd  Lou- Jane  Hoomer 
spurred  her  bay,  and  raced  beside  him.  She  was  an  ex 
cellent  horsewoman,  had  a  fine  mount,  and  challenged  Jim 
to  a  ride.  Handsome,  her  colour  up,  her  eyes  sparkling, 
Lou-Jane  could  have  ridden  away,  for  she  had  the  better 
mount,  but  she  didn't;  she  rode  beside  him,  and,  when  a 
little  gully  called  for  a  jump,  they  jumped  together,  and 
found  abundant  cause  for  laughter.  Twice  they  went 
careering,  then  back  to  Belle,  and  when  next  Jim's  itch  for 
speed  and  life  sent  him  circling,  Belle  was  rested  enough  to 
follow  everywhere. 

At  a  quarter  to  two  the  bugle  of  the  Fort  was  blown,  and 
there  issued  forth  the  proud  procession  with  Red  Rover  in 
the  middle,  led  beside  his  jockey,  who  rode  a  sober  pony. 
It  was  Little  Breeches  this  time.  There  is  one  thing  that 
cannot  be  explained  away,  that  is  defeat.  Peaches  had 
been  defeated;  his  chance  came  no  more. 

Red  Rover  was  magnificent,  trained  to  a  hair,  full  of  life 


28o   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

and  fire.  Of  all  the  beautiful  things  on  earth,  there  is 
nothing  of  nobler  beauty  than  a  noble  horse;  and  Rover,  in 
his  clean-limbed  gloss  and  tensity,  was  a  sight  to  thrill  the 
crowds  that  were  privileged  to  see  him  spurn  the  earth,  and 
arch  his  graceful  neck,  and  curvet  a  little  for  the  subtle  joy 
that  comes  of  spending  power  when  power  is  there  in  a  very 
plethora.  Every  white  man's  eye  grew  proudly  bright  as 
he  gazed  and  gloried  in  his  champion  and  fear  left  all  their 
hearts.  At  the  starting  post,  they  swung  about,  Little 
Breeches  mounted,  and  a  mighty  cheer  went  up.  "Ho, 
Red  Cloud !  Where's  your  horse?  Bring  on  your  famous 
Buckskin  now";  and  the  rumbling  of  the  crowd  was  rising, 
falling,  like  the  sound  of  water  in  a  changing  wind. 

Far  down  the  valley,  near  the  Ogallala  Camp,  a  new 
commotion  arose  and  a  wilder  noise  was  sounding.  There 
was  the  shrill  chant  of  the  "Racing  Ponies"  with  the  tom 
toms  beating,  and  then  Red  Cloud's  men  came  trotting  in  a 
mass.  As  they  neared  the  starting  point,  the  rabble  of  the 
painted  warriors  parted,  and  out  of  the  opening  came  their 
horse,  and  from  the  whites  went  up  a  loud  and  growing 
burst  of  laughter.  Such  a  horse  as  this  they  had  never 
seen  before;  not  the  famous  Buckskin,  but  the  mysterious 
pinto  pony,  wonderful,  if  weird  trappings  could  make  him 
so.  On  his  head  he  wore  an  eagle-feather  war-bonnet; 
his  mane  was  plaited  with  red  flannel  strips  and  fluttering 
plumes;  his  tail  was  even  gaudier;  around  each  eye  was  a 
great  circle  of  white  and  another  of  black;  his  nose  was 
crossbarred  with  black  and  red;  his  legs  were  painted  in 
zebra  stripes  of  yellow  and  black;  the  patches  of  white  that 
were  native  to  his  coat  were  outlined  with  black  and  pro- 


THE  PINTO  281 

fusely  decorated  with  red  hands  and  horseshoes  painted  in 
vermilion;  on  his  neck  was  a  band  of  beadwork,  carrying  a 
little  bundle  of  sacred  medicine;  and,  last,  he  had  on  each 
ankle  a  string  of  sleigh-bells  that  jingled  at  each  prancing 
step.  A  very  goblin  of  a  horse!  His  jockey  was,  as  be 
fore,  Chaska,  the  Indian  boy,  stripped  to  the  breechclout, 
with  an  eagle  feather  in  his  hair  and  a  quirt  hung  on  his 
wrist. 

Never,  perhaps,  was  a  more  grotesque  race  entry  in  all 
the  West;  and  the  difference  between  the  burnished  form  of 
Red  Rover  in  his  perfect  trim,  and  this  demon-painted 
Pinto  gave  rise  to  an  ever-growing  chorus  of  shouting, 
laughter,  rough  jibes,  and  hoots  of  joy. 

Jim  took  in  the  Indian  horse  with  the  keenest  of  eyes. 
"Well,  boys,  he  may  be  only  a  pinto  cayuse,  but  he's  way 
ahead  of  their  Buckskin.  Look  at  that  action.  Bedad, 
they've  got  him  shod!" 

The  Pinto  seemed  as  tall  as  Red  Rover  and,  so  far  as  trap 
pings  allowed  one  to  see,  he  was  nearly  as  fine  in  build. 
Diverse  feelings  now  surged  in  the  crowd.  Many  of  the 
whites  said,  "Well,  it  was  true  after  all,  Red  Cloud,  the  old 
fox,  he  sent  to  Omaha,  or  maybe  Illinois  and  bought  a 
racer.  The  shoeing  of  the  Buckskin  was  a  blind.  Or 
maybe,  at  that  time,  their  racer  had  not  been  secured." 

Old  Red  Cloud  slowly  rode  by  with  his  square  jaw  set, 
his  eyes  a  little  tight,  observing  all;  but  he  gave  no  sign  of 
special  interest. 

With  two  such  keen  and  nervous  racers  it  was  no  easy 
matter  to  get  a  fair  start;  but  at  length  they  were  ma 
noeuvred  into  line,  side  by  side.  The  pistol  cracked  and 


282    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

away  they  went,  while  all  the  crowd  held  still,  so  very  still 
for  a  moment  that  you  could  have  heard  for  a  hundred 
yards  the  medicine  song  of  the  Indian  boy: 

"Huya!  Huya!  Shungdeshka,  Shungdeshka!  (Fly! 
Fly!  my  Eagle!  Fly!  my  Pinto  Eagle!)"  And  that  wild- 
eyed  Indian  pony  sprang  away  as  fast  as  the  blooded  horse 
beside  him.  So  far  as  any  one  could  tell  it  was  an  even 
match. 

The  white  man  had  won  the  inside  track  again;  and  re 
membering  how  the  Indian  boy  had  got  that  advantage  in 
the  last  race,  he  was  on  the  watch.  But  nothing  hap 
pened;  the  horses  led  offside  by  side,  shoulder  to  shoulder. 
At  the  turning  post  was  a  waiting  throng  that  received  them 
with  a  cheer,  to  follow  again  in  their  wake,  like  madmen  let 
loose  on  hoofs.  The  horses  seemed  to  thrill  to  the  sound 
and  bent  to  it  faster. 

Around  the  post  they  had  swung,  perforce  in  a  large 
circle,  and  the  Pinto  lost  a  good  half  length.  Now  Little 
Breeches  saw  his  chance  and,  leaning  forward  well,  he 
smote  with  the  quirt  and  pricked  those  bronzy  flanks,  while 
Rover  bounded — bounded  to  his  limit. 

But  the  Indian  boy's  magic  song  rang  out  again :  "  Huya 
Huya,  Huya  deshka!  Huya,  Huya,  Huya  deshka!  (Oh, 
Eagle,  fly,  fly  Eagle,  my  Pinto  fly!)"  And  the  Pinto 
seemed  to  unchain  himself,  as  a  hawk  when  he  sails  no 
more,  but  flaps  for  higher  speed.  With  thunderous  hoofs 
the  wild  horse  splashed  through  a  pool,  came  crawling) 
crawling  up,  till  once  again  he  was  neck  and  neck  with  the 
wonderful  flying  steed  in  the  coat  of  gold. 

Little  Breeches  shouted,  "Hi!     Hi!     Hi!"  and  spurred 


THE  PINTO  283 

and  smote.  Chaska  glanced  at  him  and  smiled,  such  a  soft 
little  smile.  The  eagle  feather  in  his  hair  was  fluttering, 
and  the  smile  was  still  on  his  lips  as  they  reached  the  last 
half  mile.  Then,  in  weird  and  mouthing  tone,  Chaska 
sang  of  wind  and  wings : 

"Ho,  Huya,  Huya  deshka, 
Huya,  Huya,  Huya  deshka, 
Woo  hiya,  Woo  hiya,  Woo  hiya, 
Unkitawa,  Unkitawa,  Ho!'* 

Strong  medicine  it  must  have  been,  for  the  Pinto  thrilled, 
and  bounded  double  strong.  The  white  man  yelled  and 
spared  not  lash  nor  spur.  Red  Rover.flinched,  then  sprang 
as  he  had  never  sprung  before.  But  the  demon  pony  in  the 
motley  coat  swung  faster,  faster,  faster  yet;  his  nostrils 
flared;  his  breath  was  rushing — snorting — his  mighty 
heart  was  pounding,  the  song  of  the  wind  and  the  flying 
wings  seemed  to  enter  into  his  soul.  He  double-timed  his 
hoofbeats  and,  slowly  forging  on,  was  half  a  length  ahead. 
The  white  man  screamed  and  madly  spurred.  Red  Rover 
was  at  topmost  notch.  The  demon  pony  forged — yes,  now 
a  length  ahead,  and  in  the  rising,  rumbling  roar,  passed 
on,  a  double  length,  and  in.  The  race  was  won,  lost,  won 
lost — the  Pinto  pony  crowned;  and  the  awful  blow  had 
struck! 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THE  AFTERTIME 

THE  crack  of  doom  will  never  hit  Fort  Ryan  harder. 
When  the  thousand  painted  Sioux  came  riding, 
yelling,  wild  with  joy,  shooting  their  rifles  in  the 
air,  racing  in  a  vast,  appalling  hoof  tornado  down  the  long 
track  and  then  to  the  lodge  of  all  the  stakes,  they  went  as 
men  who  are  rushing  to  save  their  own  from  some  swift 
flood  that  threatens.      But  they  got  an  unexpected  shock. 
The  red  sentry  and  the  white  sentry  were  standing — sullen, 
for  they  were  forced  to  miss  the  race.     Still,  the  result 
was  clear. 

The  Sioux  were  each  for  claiming  the  bundle  with  his 
name.  But  the  soldier  on  guard,  with  fixed  bayonet, 
ordered  all  the  frenzied  rabble  back. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  your  darned  race,  and 
here  I  stand  till  I  get  orders  from  my  officer." 

It  was  the  very  impudence  of  his  courage  that  saved  him 
from  what  they  thought  righteous  vengeance.  The  Colonel 
came  at  once.  The  guard  saluted  and  withdrew  and  the 
Red  men  seized  their  spoils.  And,  strange  to  say,  among 
themselves  they  had  not  one  dispute;  none  tried  to  over 
reach;  each  knew  his  mark  and  claimed  his  own. 

The  whites  were  like  men  under  a  gallows  doom. 

" Stung,  stung!"  was  all  the  Colonel  had  to  say. 

284 


THE  AFTERTIME  285 

The  Adjutant,  an  erratic  officer,  had  lost  half  a  year's 
pay.  The  magnitude  of  the  disaster  was  almost  national, 
he  felt,  and  sadly,  shyly,  he  said:  "Will  you  have  the  flag 
at  half-mast,  Colonel?" 

"No!"  thundered  the  Colonel.  "I'll  be  darned  if  the 
flag  shall  hang  at  half-mast  for  anything  less  than  the  death 
of  an  American." 

And  the  Rev.  James  Hartigan!  He  stared  stonily  be 
fore  him  as  the  race  was  won. 

Belle  was  at  hand  and  she  watched  him  closely.  He 
turned  deathly  pale. 

"What  is  it,  Jim?"  she  said  quietly,  and  laid  her  hand  on 
his. 

"Oh,  Belle,  this  is  awful." 

"Why,  Jim?  Why  should  you  care?  It  isn't  as  if  it 
were  Blazing  Star.  We're  sorry  for  all  those  men,  of 
course;  but  maybe  it's  the  best  thing  for  them.  I  think 
now  they'll  realize  the  curse  and  folly  of  racetrack 
gambling." 

"Oh,  Belle,  if  you  only  knew,"  groaned  Jim. 

"Knew  what,  Jim  dear?  It  seems  to  me  those  men  are 
getting  their  deserts.  I  know  you  and  Dr.  Jebb  did  all  you 
could  to  hold  them  back,  and  denounced  all  racing  as  it 
properly  should  be." 

Jim  turned  his  head  away  and  pressing  his  forehead  with 
his  great  powerful  hand,  he  groaned. 

"Jim,  dear  boy,  why  do  you  take  it  so  hard?  Why 
should  you  worry?  I'm  sorry  for  the  women  and  children 
that  will  suffer  for  this,  but  I  have  little  pity  for  the  men; 
the  fools,  they  knew  what  they  were  doing." 


286    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Let's  ride  away,"  he  said;  and  as  he  turned,  he  saw 
Red  Cloud,  calm  and  dignified,  on  his  horse  watching 
wagon  after  wagon  go  by  filled  with  plunder,  on  its  way  to 
the  Indian  camp. 

Jim  and  Belle  rode  away  from  the  painful  scene.  She 
was  leading  for  the  Fort;  but  he  said,  "I  must  see  Higgin- 
botham."  She  followed  as  he  went  to  the  tent  with  the 
sign,  "John  &  Hannah  Higginbotham — Insurance."  A 
number  of  Indians  were  in  and  about,  laughing  merrily  and 
talking  in  their  own  tongue.  Jim  waited  till  the  tent  was 
clear,  then  dismounted.  Belle  was  for  following,  but  Jim 
said,  "Would  you  mind  holding  the  horses?  I  won't  be  a 
minute."  His  face  was  so  drawn  and  sad  that  she  was 
deeply  touched.  She  had  meant  to  prick  and  lash  him  for 
a  while  yet,  but  now  in  pity  she  forbore. 

He  entered.  The  Deacon  was  sitting  at  a  little  desk. 
Beside  him  was  a  small  safe;  it  was  open,  but  nearly  empty 
now. 

"Well,"  said  Jim  gruffly,  almost  savagely,  "what's  to 
do?" 

"Nothing,"  said  the  Deacon  calmly.  "You've  lost. 
The  Indians  have  been  here  and  got  most  of  their  plunder. 
Your  five  hundred  is  now  the  property  of  a  person  named 
'Two  Strikes'  who  will,  doubtless,  call  presently  and  se 
cure  the  indemnity,  less  my  reasonable  5  per  cent,  com 


mission." 


Jim  turned  in  silence.     As  he  joined  Belle,  she  said, 
Here,  Jim,  help  me  down;  I  want  a  word  with  the  Dea 


con." 


Jim  stammered,  "I — well — ah- 


THE  AFTERTIME  287 

She  paid  no  attention,  but  said,  "Now  lead  the  horses 
over  there."  When  he  was  safely  away,  she  entered. 
The  Deacon's  eyes  twinkled.  "Good  afternoon,  Two 
Strikes,  you  people  have  made  a  great  killing." 

"Yes,"  she  said  calmly;  "I've  come  for  my  share." 

He  opened  the  safe,  took  out  the  last  of  the  packets  tied 
up  in  a  particular  shape,  and  said  in  business-like  tone, 
"Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  premium,  five  hundred 
dollars  insurance,  5  per  cent,  on  indemnity  collected  is 
twenty-five  dollars;  shall  I  hold  it  out?" 

"No,"  she  said;  "1 11  keep  that  bunch  untouched.  Here 
it  is."  She  handed  him  his  twenty-five  dollars,  put  the 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  her  side  bag,  and  went 
forth.  Jim  stared  at  her  in  a  frightened  way  as  she  came. 

"Belle,"  he  said  huskily,  "what  did  he  say?" 

"Oh,  nothing  special.  Judging  from  his  looks,  I  don't 
think  he's  lost  any  money." 

"Did — did  he  tell  you  anything?" 

"About  what?" 

"About  me?" 

"No.  Why?  Why  do  you  look  so  terribly  upset, 
Jim?"  and  mounting,  she  rode  off  beside  him. 

"Oh,  Belle,  I  can't  lie  to  you.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Belle,  I  put  up  all  I  had,  the  money  I  got  for  Blazing  Star. 
All  we  were  to  furnish  with.  I  wanted  to  hand  you  the 
money  you  wanted.  Calling  it  insurance  blinded  me;  the 
temptation  was  too  much.  I  should  have  known  better. 
Oh,  Belle,  will  you  ever  forgive  me?  I'm  nothing  but  a 
gambler,"  and,  crushed  with  shame,  he  repeated,  "I'm 
nothing  but  a  criminal  racetrack  gambler." 


288    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

An  overwhelming  compassion  swamped  her.  She 
leaned  toward  him  and  said  softly,  "So  am  I,  Jim,  I'm  just 
as  bad  as  you  are." 

"What — what  do  you  mean?" 

"Jim,  do  you  know  the  name  of  the  Indian  that  got 
your  stake?" 

"Yes.     He  said  it  was  'Two  Strikes.'" 

"Jim,  dear,  I  am  'Two  Strikes.'  Here  is  your  money 
back;  only  it's  our  money  now,  Jim  darling.  Now  never  a 
word  of  this  to  any  human  soul";  and  screened  by  the 
cottonwood  trees,  they  fell  sobbing  in  each  other's  arms. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 
FINDING  THE   LOST  ONE 

COLONEL  WALLER  had  been  telegraphing  from 
Cedar  Mountain  to  all  reachable  parts  of  the 
North  where  the  Crows  were  likely  to  be,  without 
getting  one  word  of  comfort.  Then  up  to  the  door  of  his 
house  the  morning  after  the  devastating  race  came  Red 
Cloud  of  the  calm,  square  face,  and  behind  him  riding,  a 
dozen  braves. 

At  precisely  the  right  moment  prescribed  by  etiquette, 
he  opened:  "Me  savvy  now  why  you  no  run  heap  good 
horse." 

"Humph!  "said  Waller. 

"Didn't  I  tole  you  watch  when  Crow  come?" 

"Humph!"  was  the  answer. 

"You  no  got  him  back  yet — no?" 

"No,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  some  asperity. 

"Why ?     White  scout  no  follow  trail ? " 

"The  rain  wiped  out  all  trail,"  was  the  answer. 

"Your  scout  heap  no  good,"  said  Red  Cloud.  Then, 
after  a  dozen  slow  puffs  at  his  pipe,  during  which  he  gazed 
blankly  and  far  away,  the  Indian  said :  "Ogallala  very  good 
scouts.  Maybe  so  they  find  trail.  What  you  give  for 
follow  Crow?  Maybe  find,  bring  back  your  pony." 

Without  a  doubt,  this  was  the  easiest  way.  The 

289 


29o    THE  PREACHER  3F  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Ogallala  scouts  would  glaiy  pursue  their  ancient  enemies 
and  force  them  to  give  u  the  stolen  horse.  These  men 
knew  which  line  the  CroTs  would  most  likely  take,  and 
could  probably  pick  up  to  trail  in  a  day.  Prompt  action 
was  necessary.  The  Inc;m  bands  were  breaking  up  and 
going  home  laden  with  mnder,  their  fresh  trails  wrould 
render  it  impossible  to  fonw  the  trail  of  the  horse  thieves. 
The  Colonel's  mind  was  uickly  made  up. 

"Red  Cloud,"  he  said  mphatically,  "I'll  give  you  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  ash  if  you  find  Blazing  Star  and 
bring  him  back  here  in  god  condition  within  one  week." 

The  Indian  Chief  sroked  for  a  few  puffs  and  said: 
"  Seven  suns,  no  good,  'row  country  far  away;  one  moon 
maybe." 

Reckless  riders  like  th  Crows  might  easily  ruin  a  horse 
in  one  month;  so,  at  lerjth,  a  compromise  was  reached, 
whereby  Red  Cloud  wasto  receive  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  if  within  two  Teeks;  and  one  hundred  if  a 
month  passed  before  th  return.  Then  the  Sioux  Chief 
rose  "to  find  his  young  len,"  and  his  party  rode  away. 

It  was  nine  the  ne?:  morning  when  the  sentry  dis 
covered  a  considerable  ody  of  mounted  Indians  in  the 
northeast,  riding  rapid;  toward  the  Fort.  Had  it  been 
from  the  south,  he  wold  scarcely  have  made  a  report. 
Before  ten  o'clock  the  had  arrived.  They  numbered 
about  fifty  warriors  in  :il  war  paint.  They  were  singing 
their  war  songs,  and  fanned  to  their  coup  sticks  were  one 
or  two  terribly  fresh-Joking  scalps.  At  their  head  was 
Red  Cloud.  A  hundre  troopers  were  under  arms,  so  they 
did  not  hesitate  to  amit  the  Indians.  The  warriors 


FINDING  TH<  LOST  ONE  291 

passed  through  the  gate;  the.  spreading  out  before  the 
Colonel's  house,  their  openin  ranks  revealed  the  noble 
form  of  Blazing  Star.  Bes*iding  him  was  the  boy 
Chaska,  his  bright  eyes  and  clar  white  teeth  gleaming  in 
a  smile. 

A  mighty  shout  went  up  aiong  the  white  men  as  the 
blooded  racer  was  led  to  the  Camel's  office.  One  or  two 
formalities,  and  the  two  hunred  and  fifty  dollars  was 
paid  over  to  Red  Cloud.  Blzing  Star  was  hastily  ex 
amined,  found  in  perfect  trim,then  handed  over  to  the 
Irish  hostler. 

"You  take  him  to  the  stale/'  was  all  the  Colonel 
said,  but  he  said  it  in  large  capiil  letters  and  it  was  full  of 
grim  threats  and  reminder.  lostler  Mike  led  the  lost 
darling  back  to  the  stable  whce  a  crowd  of  men  were 
waiting. 

Red  Cloud  crammed  the  ne-  wealth  into  his  tobacco 
pouch  and  rode  away  at  the  hea  of  his  men. 

Al  Rennie  felt  sick  with  disgui  that  he  should  fail  when 
the  trail  was  fresh,  while  the  Sio::,  on  a  washed-out  trail, 
made  such  a  showing  in  so  short  time.  He  was  puzzled, 
too,  by  the  scalps.  The  two  he  lanaged  to  examine  were 
not  fresh.  But  he  had  to  swalloT  his  disgust. 

All  that  day  the  Indian  bands  hd  been  going  off.  Their 
camps  were  breaking  up;  they  Tere  dispersing  to  their 
homes.  The  Plain  was  nearly  eserted  that  afternoon 
when  hostler  Mike  took  Blazing  tar  out  into  the  heat  of 
the  sun  to  give  him  the  thorough  v/shing  and  cleaning  that 
he  surely  needed.  A  minute  laar,  Mike  came  rushing 
across  the  square  to  the  Colonel' 


292    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Colonel,  Colonel,"  he  gasped,  "come  here,  sir." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  said  the  Colonel  in  a 
voice  of  wrath  which  boded  ill  for  a  new  blunder. 

"Colonel,  come  at  once.     Come,  it's  Blazing  Star." 

There  was  a  total  lack  of  soldier  decorum  in  the  hostler's 
address.  He  was  so  intensely  excited  that  the  Colonel 
overlooked  the  informality  and  went  quickly  to  where 
Blazing  Star  was  standing  tied  to  the  washing  post. 

"There,  sir;  look  there — and  there!"  ejaculated  Mike 
with  growing  excitement,  as  he  pointed  to  Blazing  Star's 
legs.  "And  look  at  that!"  and  he  swept  his  bony  finger 
round  the  big  liquid  eye  of  the  racer.  The  Colonel  looked, 
looked  closer,  parted  the  hair,  looked  down  to  the  roots  and 
saw  paint — red  paint,  white  paint,  black  paint — traces  of 
horseshoes,  red  hands,  white  patches  and  stripes;  not 
much,  but  enough  to  tell  the  tale. 

Without  a  question,  Blazing  Star  was  the  Pinto  that  had 
won  the  race! 

The  simple  Red  men  knew  that  the  Buckskin  was  over 
matched,  so  they  secured  the  only  horse  on  the  plains  that 
could  win.  They  drove  the  Crows  away  at  the  right  mo 
ment  to  leave  a  red  herring  trail.  Then,  having  captured 
the  stakes,  they  calmly  collected  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  for  restoring  him  to  his  owner.  The  simple  Red 
men! 

And  when  Jim  Hartigan  heard  of  it  he  yelled  with  joy. 
He  laughed;  he  almost  cried.  After  all,  his  horse  had  won; 
his  Blazing  Star  was  the  steed  of  all  the  plains.  He  was 
tossed  with  different  moods — regret  and  joy,  grim  humour, 
sadness  and  madness;  he  was  stirred  to  the  depths;  all  his 


FINDING  THE  LOST  ONE  293 

primitive  nature  was  set  free.  He  did  not  sleep  for  hours, 
and  when  the  dawn  was  near,  his  boyhood  memories  filled 
his  brain  and  he  was  back  in  the  livery  stable  garret  once 
again,  and  repossessed  of  all  his  boyhood's  ways  and 
words  he  softly  swore  himself  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 
A  FAIR  RIDER 

El  at  Cedar  Mountain  had  dropped  to  normal. 
Charles  Bylow  and  his  wife  were  regular  church 
members  now,  and  no  warmer,  truer  friends  on 
earth  had  Hartigan.  Pat  Bylow  had  gone  to  Deadwood 
seeking  work  on  the  railway  and  it  was  said  that  his  wife 
was  still  importing  an  occasional  flask;  but  no  more  sprees 
took  place.  Jack  Lowe  had  left  Cedar  Mountain  abruptly 
after  the  Bylow  affair.  Higginbotham  had  spread  the 
truth  about  Lowe's  part  in  the  drugged  liquor  and  the 
schoolteacher  had  received  pointed  advice  to  leave  the 
town.  He  lost  no  time.  Dr.  Carson  and  Jack  Shives 
were  alternately  confronting  each  other  with  abstruse 
problems;  John  and  Hannah  Higginbotham  were  build 
ing  an  addition  to  their  house  and  getting  a  hired  girl;  and 
old  man  Boyd  was  worrying  over  a  possible  extension  of 
the  road  to  Deadwood,  which  might  seriously  hurt  his 
business. 

Jim  found  life  very  sweet  as  he  grew  into  the  hearts 
of  the  townsfolk  and  came  to  know  their  perfectible  quali 
ties;  he  was  acquiring  a  fine  reputation  for  pulpit  oratory. 
Every  Thursday  and  every  Sunday  afternoon  and  evening 
were  spent  at  the  Boyds'  as  their  accepted  son-in-law  to  be. 
On  these  occasions  it  was  his  keenest  pleasure  to  lay  his 

294 


A  FAIR  RIDER  295 

sermons  and  plans  before  Belle  for  her  criticism  and  ap 
proval.  When  they  were  not  together  indoors,  they  were 
in  the  saddle  together;  all  the  world  knew,  understood,  and 
wished  them  joy. 

The  Hoomers  had  come  to  be  prominent  in  the  church 
now — at  least,  Ma  Hoomer  and  Lou-Jane  had.  It  was 
Lou-Jane's  doing.  And  Hartigan,  after  long  delay, 
felt  bound  to  pay  them  a  pastoral  visit.  Lou-Jane  was 
heartiness  and  propriety  combined.  She  chatted  gaily 
on  every  subject  he  opened;  showed  no  forwardness;  was 
even  shy  when,  after  dinner,  he  sat  down  near  her.  Her 
riding  at  the  racetrack  was  vividly  in  his  mind  and  she 
blushed  quite  prettily  when  he  referred  to  it  in  admiration. 

"You  should  see  my  pony  take  a  fence,"  she  said. 

"Well,  sure;  that's  what  I'd  like  to  see,"  was  the  re 
sponse. 

"Some  day  soon,  maybe." 

"Why  not  now?"  he  inquired. 

"I  must  help  mother  with  the  dishes." 

And  he  thought :  "  Isn't  she  fine  ?  I  like  a  girl  to  consider 
her  mother."  But  he  lingered  and  chatted  till  the  dishes 
were  washed;  then  he  suggested:  "If  I  go  out  and  saddle 
your  pony,  will  you  show  me  that  jump?" 

"Certainly,"  she  answered,  with  a  merry  laugh. 

He  went  to  the  stable,  saddled  and  brought  the  bay 
horse.  Lou-Jane  put  her  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  swung 
into  the  saddle  before  he  could  offer  his  help. 

"Drop  all  the  bars  but  the  middle  one."  Hartigan  did 
so,  leaving  only  the  three-foot  bar  of  the  pasture.  Lou- 
Jane  circled  off  and  cleared  it  without  an  effort. 


296    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Raise  it  one,"  she  shouted. 

He  did  so,  and  over  she  went. 

"Again." 

Now,  at  four  feet,  the  pony  rose  and  went  over. 

"Another,"  and  he  raised  to  four  and  a  half  feet.  As 
before,  she  and  her  pony  sailed  over  like  one  creature. 

"Again,"  and  he  raised  it  to  five  feet.  The  pony  rose 
with  just  a  hint  of  effort.  One  front  hoof  touched,  but  he 
made  the  jump  in  triumph.  Lou-Jane  laughed  for  joy  and 
circled  back,  but,  warned  by  that  toe  tap,  jumped  no  more. 
She  leaped  from  the  saddle  before  Jim  could  come  near  to 
help  and  in  his  frank,  beaming  admiration  she  found  what 
once  she  had  hungered  for  in  vain. 

As  he  rode  away  that  day,  his  unvoiced  thought  was: 
"Isn't  she  fine — and  me  misjudging  her  all  the  time! 
I'm  ashamed  of  myself." 

Lou-Jane  watched  him  out  of  sight,  waving  a  hand  to 
him  as  he  topped  the  hill.  The  visit  and  Hartigan's  open 
delight  in  her  riding  had  stirred  her  very  much.  Was  it 
loyalty  to  Belle  that  led  her  to  throw  up  a  barrier  between 
herself  and  the  Preacher?  or  was  it  knowledge  that  the 
flowers  are  ever  fairest  in  the  fenced-in  field  ?  This  much  was 
sure,  the  interest  of  passing  attraction  was  giving  place 
to  a  deeper  feeling.  A  feeling  stronger  every  month. 
Lou-Jane  was  in  the  game  to  win;  and  was  playing  well. 

August,  bright  and  fruit-giving,  was  passing;  September 
was  near  with  its  dryness,  its  payments  on  the  springtime 
promises;  and  Belle,  as  she  gazed  at  the  radiant  sky  or  the 
skurrying  prairie  dogs  that  tumbled,  yapping,  down  their 
little  craters,  was  tormented  with  the  flight  of  the  glowing 


A  FAIR  RIDER  297 

months.  In  October  the  young  Preacher  and  she  must 
say  good-bye  for  a  long,  long  time,  with  little  chance  of  any 
break  till  his  course  was  completed,  and  he  emerged  a 
graduate  of  Coulter.  That  was  a  gloomy  thought.  But 
others  of  equal  dread  had  come  of  late. 

Hartigan  was  paying  repeated  pastoral  calls  at  Roomers' 
and  last  week  Jim  and  Lou-Jane  had  ridden  to  Fort  Ryan 
together.  It  was  a  sort  of  challenge  race — on  a  dare — and 
Jim  had  told  Belle  all  about  it  before  and  after;  but  just 
the  same,  they  had  ridden  there  and  back  and,  evidently, 
had  a  joyful  time. 

Jim  was  a  child.  He  always  thought  of  himself  as  a 
coarse,  cruel,  rough  brute;  but  really  he  was  as  soft 
hearted  as  a  woman;  and,  outside  of  his  righting  mood, 
nothing  pained  him  more  than  the  idea  of  making  any  one 
unhappy.  His  fighting  moods  were  big  and  often;  but 
they  had  existence  only  in  the  world  of  men.  He  believed 
himself  very  wise  in  the  ways  of  life,  but  he  had  not  really 
begun  to  see,  and  he  was  quite  sublimely  unconscious  of  all 
the  forces  he  was  setting  in  motion  by  his  evident  pleasure 
in  the  horsemanship  of  Lou-Jane  Hoomer  and  in  their  fre 
quent  rides  together. 

Lou-Jane  had  a  voice  of  some  acceptability  and  she  was 
easily  persuaded  to  join  the  choir.  A  class  in  Sunday- 
school  was  added  to  her  activities,  and  those  who  believed 
the  religious  instinct  to  be  followed  closely  by  another  on  a 
lower  plane,  began  to  screw  up  their  eyes  and  smile  when 
Lou-Jane  appeared  with  Jim. 

The  glorious  September  of  the  hills  was  waning  when  a 
landslide  was  started  by  a  single  sentence  from  Lou-Jane. 


298    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

She  had  ridden  again  with  Jim  to  Fort  Ryan.  Her  horse 
had  cleared  a  jump  that  his  had  shied  at.  Mrs.  Waller  had 
said  to  her  across  the  table,  half  in  fun  and  meaning  it  every 
word : 

"See  here,  I  won't  have  you  trifling  with  Mr.  Hartigan's 
affections;  remember,  he's  preempted." 

Lou-Jane  laughed  with  delight.  And,  looking  very 
handsome  all  the  while,  she  said  with  mock  humility: 
"No  one  would  consider  me  a  rival." 

Jim  told  Belle  every  word  of  it;  he  was  simplicity  itself  in 
such  things;  he  didn't  seem  to  have  any  idea  of  the  game. 
He  was  wholly  oblivious  of  the  little  cloud  which  his 
anecdote  left  on  her.  It  was  a  little  cloud,  but  many  little 
clouds  can  make  a  canopy  of  gloom  and  beget  a  storm. 
Then  came  the  words.  It  was  at  one  of  the  church  even 
ings  in  the  parsonage — a  regular  affair,  but  not  soaring  to 
the  glorious  heights  of  a  sociable — that  the  words  were 
uttered  which  wrought  a  mighty  change.  Jim  had  alluded 
to  the  inevitable  journey  East  in  October,  not  half  a  month 
ahead  now,  when  Lou-Jane  Hoomer  announced  "I'm  going 
East,  too.  My  dad  is  giving  me  a  trip  back  to  Rochester 
to  see  grandma,"  she  said. 

"Why,  Rochester  is  just  a  little  run  across  the  lake  from 
Coulter  College,"  exclaimed  Jim. 

"Maybe  I'll  see  you  when  I  am  there,"  said  Lou-Jane. 
"What  fun!" 

Every  one  applauded  and  Jim  said:  "Well,  that 
would  make  a  pleasant  change  in  the  dreary  grind." 

Belle's  only  comment  was,  "How  nice!"  and  she  gave 
no  sign  of  special  interest;  but  a  close  observer  might  have 


A  FAIR  RIDER  299 

«seen  a  tightening  of  her  lips,  a  sudden  tensity  of  look. 
The  merry  chatter  of  the  parlour  ceased  not  and  she  seemed 
still  a  factor  in  all  its  life,  but  the  iron  had  entered  her  very 
soul.  She  played  her  part  as  leader,  she  gave  no  outward 
sign  of  the  agony  of  fear  that  filled  her  heart,  but  she 
took  the  earliest  reasonable  time  to  signal  Jim  and  steal 
away. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

THE  LIFE  GAME 

TRUMP  cards  you  must  have  to  win  in  the  life  game; 
and  you  must  know  how  to  play  them,  or  a  much 
poorer  hand  may  beat  you.     You  must  know  the 
exact  time  to  play  your  highest  trump,  and  there  is  no 
general  rule  that  is  safe,  but  Belle  had  a  woman's  instinc 
tive  knowledge  of  the  game. 

In  two  weeks  Jim  was  to  leave  Cedar  Mountain.  Belle 
had  reasoned  with  him,  coaxed  him,  cajoled  him  into  seeing 
that  that  was  the  right  trail  for  him.  He  must  complete 
his  college  course,  then  they  could  marry  with  the  sanction 
of  the  Church  and  be  assured  of  a  modest  living.  But  the 
rules  were  strict;  no  ungraduated  student  might  marry. 
The  inadequacy  of  the  stipend,  the  necessity  for  singleness 
of  aim  and  thought,  the  imperative  need  of  college  atmos 
phere — these  were  absolute.  Viewed  from  any  stand 
point,  celibacy  was  the  one  wise  condition  for  the  un 
trained  student. 

It  had  taken  all  of  Belle's  power  to  make  Jim  face 
the  horror  of  those  classrooms  in  the  far  East;  and  from 
time  to  time  his  deep  repulsion  broke  into  expression. 
Then  she  would  let  him  rage  for  a  while,  chew  the  bit, 
froth  and  rail  till  his  mood  was  somewhat  spent.  And 
when  the  inevitable  reaction  set  in  she  would  put  her 

300 


THE  LIFE  GAME  301 

arm  about  him  and  would  show  him  that  the  hard  way 
was  surely  the  best  way,  and  then  paint  a  bright  picture 
of  their  future  together  when  his  rare  gifts  as  an  orator 
should  bring  him  fame,  and  secure  a  position  in  the  high 
est  ranks  of  the  Church.  Thus  she  had  persuaded  him, 
holding  out  the  promise  that  every  vacation  should  be 
spent  with  her;  curbing  her  own  affections,  even  as  she 
had  curbed  his,  she  walked  the  path  of  wisdom — deter 
mined,  resigned — in  the  knowledge  that  this  was  the  way 
to  win.  And  Jim  had  come  to  face  it  calmly  now,  even  as 
she  had  done.  The  minute  details  of  the  plan  were  be 
ing  filled  In.  Then  came  those  little  words  from  Lou- 
Jane. 

Had  Jim  been  a  wordly-wise  person  with  many  girl 
friends  and  a  mouth  full  of  flattery  for  them  all,  Belle 
would  have  paid  no  attention  to  the  proposed  visit  of 
Lou-Jane  to  Rochester.  Knowing  Jim  as  she  did,  and 
having  a  very  shrewd  idea  of  Lou-Jane's  intentions,  Belle 
realized  that  this  was  a  crisis,  the  climax  of  her  life  and 
hopes,  that  everything  that  made  her  life  worth  while 
was  staked  on  the  very  next  move. 

She  said  little  as  they  walked  home  from  the  parsonage, 
but  her  hand,  locked  in  his  arm,  clung  just  a  little  more 
than  usual,  and  he  was  moved  by  the  tenderness  of  her 
"Good-night." 

Little  she  slept  that  night;  but  tossed  and  softly  moaned, 
"That  woman,  that  coarse,  common  woman!  How  can 
he  see  anything  in  her?  She  is  nothing  but  an  animal. 
And  yet,  what  may  happen  if  he  is  East  and  she  is  playing 
around,  with  me  far  away?  It  cannot  be.  I  know  what 


302    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

men  are.  Now  he  is  mine;  but,  if  I  let  him  go  far  away 
and  she  follows 

"It  cannot  be!  It  must  not  be — at  any  price,  I  must 
stop  it.  I  must  hold  him." 

And  she  tossed  and  moaned,  "At  any  price!  At  any 
price!  I'd  do  anything " 

The  simple,  obvious  plan  was  to  put  him  under  promise 
never  to  see  or  hear  from  Lou-Jane;  but  her  pride  and  her 
instincts  rebelled  at  the  thought.  "What?  Admit  that 
there  was  danger  from  that  creature?  No,  no — why, 
that  would  have  just  the  wrong  effect  on  him;  she  would 
become  doubly  interesting;  no,  that  would  not  do.  She 
would  ignore  that — that — that  snake.  And  then  what? 

"At  any  price,  this  must  be  stopped";  and  out  of  the 
whirling  maelstrom  of  her  thoughts  came  this:  "If  I 
cannot  keep  her  from  going,  I'll  go,  too!"  How?  In 
what  capacity?  Belle  knew  enough  of  his  mind  to  be 
sure  that  however  the  plan  was  carried  out,  it  would 
shock  his  ideas  of  propriety  and  be  a  losing  game. 

Lou-Jane  was  playing  better  than  she  was,  and  it  mad 
dened  her  ever  more  as  she  realized  that  the  present  plans 
could  end  only  in  one  way — the  way  that  she,  at  any  price, 
must  stop.  And  in  the  hours  of  tumult,  of  reasoning 
every  course  out  to  its  bitter  end,  this  at  length  came  clear: 
There  was  but  one  way — that  was  marry  him  now.  It 
was  that  or  wreck  the  happiness  upon  which  both  their 
lives  had  been  built.  And  yet  that  meant  ruin  to  his 
whole  career.  She,  herself,  had  told  him  so  a  hundred  times. 
"He  must  go  back  to  college.  He  must  not  marry  till  his 
three  years  were  completed."  These  were  her  very  words. 


THE  LIFE  GAME  303 

It  seemed  that  ruin  of  his  hopes  was  in  one  scale;  ruin 
of  hers  in  the  other.  And  she  tried  to  pray  for  light  and 
guidance;  but  there  do  seem  to  be  times  when  the  Lord  is 
not  interested  in  our  problems;  at  least,  no  light  or  guid 
ance  of  the  kind  she  sought  for  came. 

And  she  wrought  herself  up  into  a  state  of  desperation. 
"At  any  price,  this  must  stop/*  she  kept  saying  over  and 
over.  Every  expedient  was  turned  in  her  mind  and  its 
outcome  followed  as  far  as  she  could;  and  ever  it  came 
back  to  this — her  hopes  or  his  were  to  be  sacrificed. 

"I  will  not  let  him  go,"  she  said  aloud,  with  all  the  force 
of  a  strong  will  become  reckless.  It  would  certainly  be 
my  grave;  but  it  need  not  be  his.  There  are  other  col 
leges  and  other  ways.  I'm  not  afraid  of  that.  At  any 
price,  I  must  keep  him.  I'll  marry  him  now.  We'll 
be  married  at  once.  That  will  settle  it." 

The  storm  was  over.  The  one  plan  was  clear.  That 
she  would  take — take  and  win;  but,  oh,  how  selfish  she 
felt  in  taking  it!  She  was  sacrificing  his  career. 

Yet  ever  she  crushed  the  rising  self-accusation  with 
the  "There  are  other  colleges  and  other  ways.  I'll 
open  the  way  for  that."  That  was  the  sop  to  her  inner 
judge,  but  the  motive  power  was  this:  "At  any  price  I 
must  hold  him."  And  convinced  that  the  time  had  come 
to  play  her  highest  trump  she  fell  asleep. 


The  following  morning  found  Belle  fully  prepared  for 
energetic  action.     She  cleared  the  table  and  washed  the 


304    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

dishes,  putting  them  in  their  accustomed  places,  and 
stopped  suddenly  with  the  last  of  the  china  in  her  hand, 
wondering  how  long  it  would  be  before  she  held  it  again. 
Upstairs,  she  quickly  packed  her  hand-bag  for  "  a  one-night 
camp"  and,  keeping  ears  and  eyes  alert,  noted  when  at 
length  her  father  had  gone  to  his  office  and  her  mother  had 
settled  to  her  knitting.  Then  she  went  to  her  room  and 
set  about  a  careful  toilet.  The  rebellious  forelock  was 
curled  on  a  hot  slate  pencil  and  tucked  back  among  its 
kind.  Over  each  ear,  she  selected  another  lock  for  like 
elaboration.  She  put  on  her  most  becoming  dress  and 
studied  the  effect  of  her  two  brooches  to  make  sure  which 
one  would  help  the  most.  She  dashed  a  drop  of  "Violetta' 
on  her  handkerchief  and  pinched  her  cheeks  to  heighten 
their  colour  and  remove  the  traces  of  the  previous  night's 
vigil.  The  beauty-parlour  methods  were  not  yet  known 
in  Cedar  Mountain. 

Jim  always  dropped  in  for  a  chat  in  the  morning  and  it 
was  not  long  before  his  cheery  whistle  sounded  as  down  the 
street  he  came  to  the  tune  of  "Merry  Bandon  Town."  In 
his  right  hand  he  twirled  a  stout  stick  in  a  way  that  sug 
gested  a  very  practical  knowledge  of  the  shillelah.  The 
flush  of  health  and  of  youth  suffused  his  cheeks  and 
mounted  to  his  forehead.  All  signs  of  worry  over  his  im 
pending  fate  were  gone;  indeed,  no  worry  could  live  long  in 
his  buoyant  mind;  its  tense  electric  chargement  was  sure 
death  to  all  such  microbes.  Arrived  at  the  Boyds',  he  did 
not  stop  to  open  the  five-foot  gate.  Laying  his  fingers  on 
the  post,  he  vaulted  over  the  pickets. 

Belle  met  him  on  the  porch.     From  somewhere  back, 


THE  LIFE  GAME  305 

Ma  Boyd  called  out  a  thin-voiced  "good  morning,"  as  they 
went  into  the  front  room. 

"My  little  girl  looks  pale  to-day,"  he  said,  as  he  held  her 
at  arm's  length. 

"Yes,  I  didn't  sleep  well.  I  wish  I  could  get  out  for  a 
few  hours.  Can't  you  take  me?" 

"Sure,  that's  what  I  came  for,"  he  answered  gaily. 

"I  don't  feel  much  like  riding,  Jim.  Can  you  get  a  good 
buckboard?" 

"Why,  yes,  of  course  I  can.  Carson  says  I  can  have  his 
double-harness  buckboard  any  time,  ponies  and  all." 

"Good!  Just  the  thing.  I  want  to  go  out  to  Bylow's 
Corner  to  make  a  call,  and  maybe  farther,  if  we  can  man 
age.  I'll  be  ready  by  the  time  you  are  here  with  the 

rig-" 

She  went  to  her  desk  and  wrote  a  note  to  her  father. 
Somehow,  mother  didn't  seem  to  count, 

DEAR  DAD:  If  I  am  not  home  to-night,  I  shall  be  with  Aunt  Collins. 

Lovingly,  BELLE. 

Then  she  put  it  in  his  tobacco  jar,  where  he  would  be 
certain  to  see  it  on  coming  home  for  dinner,  and  where  Ma 
Boyd  would  never  dream  of  looking. 

When  Jim  returned  she  carried  a  hand-bag:  "Some 
things  I  need,"  and  she  laughed  happily  as  he  lifted  her 
into  the  rig  and  inquired  if  she  wasn't  taking  a  trunk. 
Then  away  they  went,  as  they  had  so  many  times  before. 

Youth  and  health,  love  and  beauty;  October  and  the 
Dakota  Hills — what  a  wonderful  conjunction !  The  world 
can  do  no  better  to  multiply  the  joy  of  being  alive.  If 


306    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

either  had  a  care,  it  was  quickly  buried  out  of  sight.  Jim 
was  in  rollicking  mood.  Not  a  prairie  dog  sat  up  and 
shook  its  tail  in  time  to  its  voice,  but  Jim's  humour  sug 
gested  resemblances  to  some  one  that  they  knew;  this  one 
looked  like  Baxter,  the  fat  parson  of  the  Congregation- 
alists;  "that  little  one's  name  is  likely  Higginbotham;  see 
how  Hannah  makes  him  skip  around.  And  there  goes 
Lawyer  Scrimmons,"  he  chuckled,  as  a  blotched,  bloated 
rattlesnake  oozed  along  and  out  of  sight  at  the  hint  of 
danger.  Two  owls  that  gazed  and  blinked  in  silence  were 
named  for  a  pair  of  fat  twin  sisters  of  their  church;  per 
fectly  well-meaning,  but  without  a  word  of  conversation  or 
any  expression  but  their  soulful  eyes.  And  a  solitary  owl 
that  gazed  from  the  top  of  a  post  straight  up  in  the  sky  was 
compared  to  an  old-time  Methodist  woman  with  her  eyes 
uplifted  in  prayer  while  the  collection  plate  was  shoved 
under  her  nose. 

Bylow's  Corner  was  reached  all  too  soon.  As  Jim  was 
about  to  draw  up  Belle  said:  "Let's  go  on  farther;  we  can 
take  them  in  on  the  road  back.  Let's  go  as  far  as  Lookout 
Mountain."  And  Jim  was  happy  to  go. 

They  were  six  miles  from  Cedar  Mountain  now,  with  no 
more  houses  by  the  road  for  miles.  Belle  had  fallen  silent. 
It  was  all  as  she  had  planned,  but  somehow  the  firm  resolve 
of  the  night  before  seemed  open  to  question  now.  She 
gazed  absently  away  over  the  level,  toward  a  distant  hill 
side,  and  the  smile  faded  from  her  lips.  To  his  next  light 
speech  she  barely  made  response.  He  threatened  to 
charge  a  " thank  you  ma'am"  at  high  speed  if  she  didn't 
laugh.  Then,  getting  no  response,  he  burst  out: 


THE  LIFE  GAME  307 

"What  the  divil  is  the  matter  with  my  little  girl  to-day? 
Have  ye  anything  on  your  mind,  Belle?" 

This  was  the  fork  in  their  trail:,  either  she  must  tell  him 
or  give  him  up.  For  a  fraction  of  an  instant  she  lived 
through  the  agony  of  doubt.  Then,  with  a  certainty  she 
had  not  thought  possible,  she  said:  "Yes,  Jim,  I  surely 
have." 

"Well,  shake  it  off,  Belle.  Let  some  other  mind  have  it. 
Use  mine,  if  you'll  allow  that  I  have  one." 

"I  haven't  slept  all  night  for  thinking  of  it,  Jim,"  she 
began. 

"Thinking  of  what?" 

"Your  going  away." 

His  face  clouded;  he  became  suddenly  silent  and  she  con 
tinued: 

"Jim,  dear,  I've  tried  to  keep  my  feelings  out  of  it  alto 
gether;  I've  argued  it  out,  using  nothing  but  my  judgment, 
and  it  seemed  the  wise  thing  for  you  to  go  back  East  to 
college.  All  my  judgment  says:  'send  him  back';  but,  oh, 
all  my  instincts  say  'keep  him  here."  She  covered  both 
his  hands  with  hers  and  put  her  cheek  on  them  for  a  mo 
ment. 

"Fm  always  trying  to  be  wise,  Jim,  but  I  suppose  Fm 
really  very  stupid  and  very  weak  like  most  humans;  and 
there  come  times  when  I  feel  like  kicking  everything  over 
and  saying  'what's  the  use?'  This  time  Fm  going  to  let 
my  feelings  hold  the  reins." 

"Why,  Belle  darling!  That  sounds  more  like  me  than 
you." 

"Jim,  as  I  lay  awake  last  night,  a  voice  seemed  to  Sc 


3o8    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

sounding  in  my  heart:  'Don't  let  him  go.  If  he  goes, 
you'll  lose  him,  you'll  lose  each  other.'  Jim,  do  you  sup 
pose  God  brought  you  and  me  together  in  this  way,  to  be  so 
much  to  each  other,  to  be  exactly  fitted  to  round  out  each 
other's  life,  to  let  us  separate  now?" 

"  Belle,  I  believe  He  sent  me  out  here  to  meet  you,  and 
any  one  coming  between  us  is  going  against  God." 

"I  know,  Jim.  And  yet  I  have  the  feeling,  which  I 
can't  shake  off,  that  as  sure  as  you  go  back  to  college,  I 
shall  lose  you." 

"Then,  by  Heaven!  I  won't  go;  and  that  settles  it, 
Belle.  I'll  chuck  the  whole  thing."  And  his  forehead 
flushed  with  passion. 

She  dropped  her  face  on  her  knees  and  shook  in  a  parox 
ysm  of  weeping.  All  the  emotional  side  of  her  nature — 
so  carefully  repressed  throughout  these  weeks  and  months 
of  struggle — swept  away  their  barriers.  Now  that  she  had 
spoken  the  fear  that  was  in  her  heart,  the  reality  of  the 
danger  that  threatened  their  happiness  crushed  her  down. 
Jim  threw  his  arm  around  her.  "  Belle,  Belle,  I  can't  see  you 
cry  that  way.  Belle,  don't!  We  are  not  going  to  part." 

It  was  long  before  she  found  her  voice.  In  broken 
sounds  she  sobbed:  "I  can't  give  you  up  now,"  and  she 
leaned  toward  him  though  still  she  hid  her  face. 

"Belle,  why  do  you  talk  of  such  a  thing?  You  won't 
give  me  up,  because  I  won't  let  you.  I  won't  go,  Belle, 
that's  settled." 

Her  only  answer  was  to  cling  to  him  passionately.  After 
a  long  silence,  during  which  the  ponies  dropped  to  a  walk, 
she  said  half  questioningly: 


THE  LIFE  GAME  309 

"Jim,  we  can't — give  up  all  and — and — separate  now." 

"Belle  darling,"  and  Jim  suddenly  became  calm  and 
clear  in  thought,  and  a  strange  new  sense  of  power  came 
on  him  as  he  gripped  himself,  "there  are  times  when  a 
man  must  just  take  the  bit  in  his  teeth  and  break  through 
everything,  and  I'm  going  to  do  that  now.  There's  just 
one  way  out  of  this ;  we're  halfway  to  Deadwood.  Let's  go 
right  on  and  get  married.  The  college  and  everything  else 
can  go  to  the  divil  so  long  as  I  can  be  with  you. 

"Will  you  agree  to  that?"  he  asked, lifting  her  head  from 
his  shoulder  and  looking  into  her  eyes. 

"Jim,"  she  said,  pushing  him  gently  away  from  her  and 
leaning  back  so  that  they  occupied  the  sides  of  the  wide 
seat,  "let's  be  fair  with  each  other.  For  a  long  time  you've 
had  your  fling  at  the  hardship  of  going  back  to  Coulter 
while  I  have  urged  you  to  go.  This  is  my  fling  at  it" — 
she  smiled  at  him  through  her  tears — "my  rebellion,  so  per 
haps  we're  quits.  But  the  problem  still  remains.  I 
thought  about  it  all  last  night  and  I  decided  I  could  not  let 
you  go — that  it  meant  the  end  of  our  hopes.  When  you 
first  asked  me,  up  the  road,  I  doubted  my  right  to  tell  you 
the  fears  I  had.  But,  oh,  Jim,  it  is  our  happiness,  ours,  not 
yours  or  mine  alone.  If  we  have  that  we  can  make  the  rest 
come  right.  If  we  lose  that — 

"But  we're  not  going  to  lose  it,"  he  cried,  "if  you'll  only 
answer  my  question,  Will  you  marry  me  to-day  if  we  go 
on  to  Deadwood?"  He  put  out  his  arms  to  her  and  she 
yielded  with  a  happy  sob  to  his  ardour.  Holding  her  and 
pressing  his  lips  to  hers,  he  said  simply:  "I  am  very 
happy." 


3io    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

After  a  little  while  she  took  his  head  between  her  palms 
and  looking  into  his  face  with  eyes  that  sought  his  spirit, 
as  though  she  would  pledge  her  faith  to  his,  she  said: 
"You  will  never  be  sorry  for  this,  darling." 


At  Lookout  Mountain  was  the  half-way  house.  They 
fed  their  horses,  rested  an  hour,  and  then  sped  on.  At  four 
o'clock  they  reached  Deadwood.  Jim  put  up  the  horses 
at  the  little  inn,  whose  parlour  he  remembered;  together 
they  went  to  the  jeweller's  shop,  purchased  a  ring,  and  then 
to  the  mayor's  office. 

The  great  man  was  busy  with  affairs  of  State,  but  the 
world  has  a  kindly  heart  for  lovers  and  the  experienced 
official  can  recognize  them  afar.  He  glanced  over  a  crowd 
of  many  men  advancing  various  claims,  and  said,  with  a 
knowing  smile,  "Hello!" 

"License,"  was  all  Jim  said,  and  a  subdued  "Ha,  Ha!" 
was  the  amused  response. 

The  mayor  pulled  out  a  drawer,  produced  a  form,  and 
rattled  off  the  usual  questions:  Name?  Age?  Married 
before?  etc.,  rilling  it  in;  then  did  the  same  for  Belle.  "Now 
stand  up.  You  swear  to  the  truth  of  each  and  all  of  the 
statements?"  Each  of  them  raised  a  hand  and  swore. 

"Want  to  finish  it  up  now?"  said  the  mayor. 

"Yes." 

"  Put  on  the  ring  and  hold  her  hand."  Jim  did  so.  The 
mayor  stood  up,  holding  their  clasped  hands  in  his  left.  He 
raised  his  right  and  said:  "James  and  Belle,  in  accordance 
with  the  laws  of  the  United  States  and  of  the  State  of 


THE  LIFE  GAME  311 

Dakota,  I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife.  He  signed  the 
paper,  gave  each  in  turn  the  pen  to  sign,  and  said,  "Now  I 
want  another  witness." 

"Sure,  I'd  like  to  be  in  on  that  there  dokiment,"  said  a 
rough  voice. 

"Can  you  write?" 

"Bet  your  life  I  can." 

A  big  heavy  man  came  forward;  the  mayor  handed  him 
the  pen;  and,  after  the  word  "Witness"  he  wrote,  "Pat 
Bylow,  of  Cedar  Mountain";  and  then  with  a  friendly  grin 
he  offered  his  hand  to  the  Preacher,  and  they  gripped  hands 
for  the  first  time. 

"Two  dollars,  please,"  said  the  mayor. 

Jim  paid  it,  and  he  and  Belle  stepped  forth  as  man  and 
wife. 


CHAPTER  XL VI 

WHAT  NEXT? 

A  WORDING  to  an  ancient  custom,  the  newly  wed 
should  cease  from  their  calling  in  life  and  disap 
pear  for  a  time,  and  the  practice  has  long  been 
well  honoured  by  observance.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hartigan 
had  large  and  immediate  problems  to  face.  They  break 
fasted  at  Aunt  Collins's  and  set  out  at  once  for  Cedar 
Mountain.  Belle  was  quite  aware,  reasonably  and  in 
stinctively,  that  she  must  expect  a  reaction  in  Jim  after 
the  emotional  outburst  that  had  led  him  so  far  from  their 
sober  plan  of  a  week  before;  and  she  exerted  herself  to  fill 
every  minute  with  the  interests  of  this  new  life  they  had 
begun.  But  she  was  not  prepared  for  something  which 
did  begin.  From  that  hour  of  the  great  decision  Jim  seemed 
bigger  and  stronger.  She  had  been  thinking  of  him  as  a 
promising  child.  Now  he  was  her  equal  in  the  world  of 
affairs.  He  was  growing  faster  than  she.  They  were  near 
the  edge  of  the  town  when  she  saw  a  cottage  with  the  sign 
up,  "To  let."  It  was  very  attractive  in  its  fresh  paint 
and  obviously  it  had  just  been  finished. 

"Jim,  maybe  that  was  made  for  us.  Let's  see  it."  They 
tied  up  the  horses  and  entered.  It  was  indeed  small.  The 
Preacher  had  to  stoop  at  the  front  doorway  and  turn  side- 
wise  to  enter  the  cellarway,  but  it  was  clean  and  prettily 

312 


WHAT  NEXT?  313 

placed  with  a  view  to  the  south,  and  had  four  rooms  and 
cellar. 

Belle  gazed  from  the  window  through  the  gap  between 
the  hills  and  said,  "I  wish  I  knew  some  things  that  I  will 
know  within  a  week";  then,  after  a  pause,  "but  I  don't; 
let's  go." 

As  they  were  getting  into  the  buckboard  Jim  re 
membered  having  left  behind  a  package  which  Aunt  Col 
lins  wished  to  send  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Boyd.  As  they 
drove  hastily  back  they  met  a  new,  strange  sight  in  Dead- 
wood.  A  man  in  a  sort  of  military  uniform  was  marching 
along  carrying  a  big  drum  which  he  pounded  rhythmically; 
behind  him  were  a  dozen  men  and  women  in  poke  bonnets 
and  blue  skirts.  Above  them  was  a  flag  inscribed  "Sal 
vation  Army."  They  stopped  to  sing  a  hymn,  and  were 
soon  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  people  who  made  scoffing 
remarks.  The  leader  prayed,  and  all  joined  in  a  warlike 
hymn  punctuated  by  the  thunderous  drum. 

There  can  be  no  question  of  the  power  of  the  drum  on 
simple  and  primitive  natures.  Something  in  Jim  re 
sponded  to  it  at  once.  The  commonplace  words  of  the 
commonplace  leader  were  without  power  to  move,  and  the 
droning  hymn  was  soporific  rather  than  inspiring;  but  the 
rhythmic  thump,  thump,  thump,  seemed  to  strike  the 
chords  of  his  being;  and  a  hypnotic  tensity  began.  He 
gazed  at  the  sad  face  of  the  fanatic,  and  forgot  everything 
else,  till  Belle  roused  him  with  a  businesslike,  "Let's  go, 
Jim." 

Arrived  at  Cedar  Mountain,  they  knew  at  once  from  the 
smiles  and  greetings  of  a  few  friends  whom  they  met 


3H    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

that  the  town  had  heard  the  news.  They  went  to  the 
Boyd  home  where  Ma  Boyd  wept  and  feebly  scolded, 
then  wept  some  more.  Pa  Boyd  said  "Humph!"  Load 
ing  his  pipe  he  smoked  in  silence  for  five  minutes  and  then 
began  to  laugh  quietly.  At  length,  clapping  Hartigan 
good-naturedly  on  the  back,  he  observed:  "Well,  boys  will 
be  boys.  But  I  did  think  Belle  was  too  level-headed  and 
businesslike  to  go  off  on  a  panicky  proposition  like  this. 
Howsomever,  it's  done;  now  the  question  is,  what  next  ?  I 
can  forgive;  folks  can  forgive,  but  the  Church  won't.  Now 
what's  next?" 

Seeing  that  the  home  folks  were  well  enough  disposed, 
Jim  didn't  wait  to  discuss  details  but  set  out  alone  to  call 
on  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jebb.  Mrs.  Jebb  opened  the  door  herself 
and  looking  up  at  the  handsome  face  she  laid  her  hand  on 
his  arm  with  a  pleased  laugh  and  said:  "Good  for  you!" 

Dr.  Jebb  was  very  grave.  "My  dear  boy,  don't  you  see 
how  serious  it  is?" 

"Just  as  serious  as  it  can  be,  doctor;  I  know  that,"  and 
Jim  laughed. 

"But  do  you  realize  you  have  broken  with  the  Church? 
You  cannot  go  to  college  now.  You  are  out  of  a  living. 
You  must  think  about  some  other  means  of  livelihood." 

"All  of  which  I  know,  and  knew  when  I  took  this  step." 

"As  your  pastor,  I  must  chide  you  severely,"  said  Jebb; 
"as  your  superior  officer,  I  must  pay  you  the  twenty-five 
dollars  that  is  your  full  and  quit  payment  of  salary  up  to 
October  thirty-first;  as  the  head  of  this  body  in  Cedar 
Mountain,  I  must  notify  you  that  your  connection  with  the 
congregation  as  assistant  pastor  is  ended ;  as  your  brother  in 


WHAT  NEXT?  315 

Christ,  I  invoke  God's  blessing  on  your  somewhat  hasty 
action;  and,  as  your  friend  and  Belle's,  I  offer  you  my  poor 
help  in  whatsoever  way  I  can  serve  you."  And  as  Jim 
took  his  leave,  much  touched  by  the  old  doctor's  gentle 
ness,  the  pastor  followed  him  to  the  door  with  his  wife. 
With  one  of  his  sudden  happy  impulses  Jim  stooped  and 
kissed  Mrs.  Jebb  and  the  two  old  people  were  still  in  the 
doorway  watching  him  as  he  turned  for  a  final  wave  at  the 
gate. 

The  blacksmith  shop  was  the  next  place  of  call.  Not 
that  Jim  sought  it,  but  he  couldn't  well  avoid  it,  and  he  was 
hailed  by  all  as  he  came  near.  Shives  came  forward  in  his 
characteristic  way,  holding  out  his  hand.  "Wall,  wall! 
Now  I  know  you  are  human  in  spite  of  your  job !  You've 
gone  up  about  ten  pegs  in  my  scale." 

Carson  was  there  and  met  him  with  a  broad  grin.  "So 
that's  what  you  borrowed  my  team  for?  Ho,  ho!  Well, 
I'll  forgive  you,  if  you  bring  them  back  and  promise  not  to 
get  the  habit/ 

After  much  well-wishing  Jim  started  down  the  street. 
He  had  only  gone  a  short  distance  when  the  sound  of  some 
one  running  and  calling  his  name  made  him  halt.  It  was 
Higginbotham  who  had  hastened  on  the  first  news  of  his 
arrival  to  make  a  business  proposition.  "Of  course,  I 
know,  Jim,  that  you  are  a  capitalist,  and  Hannah  and  me 
have  been  thinking  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  establish  a 
branch  in  Deadwood.  Hannah  is  'round  calling  on  Belle, 
to  fix  it  up." 

As  indeed  she  was  at  that  very  moment.  Jim  got  the 
whole  project  from  Belle  on  his  return,  but  there  were  serious 


316    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

difficulties  in  the  way  of  Hannah's  scheme.  Jim  had  no 
taste  or  capacity  for  business.  All  Belle's  time  would  be 
needed  for  the  household.  Furthermore,  Jim  still  felt  that 
the  ministry  was  his  calling.  They  pondered  it  long  and  dis 
cussed  it  freely.  Belle  knew  she  could  make  the  business  a 
success,  but  it  would  be  by  sacrificing  many  things  that 
they  had  dreamed  of  and  planned  for  their  first  home. 
That  night  they  kneeled  down  together  and  prayed  for  the 
guidance  of  the  Great  Guide.  Jim  opened  the  Bible  three 
times,  with  his  eyes  closed,  and  laid  his  finger  at  hazard  on 
a  text,  and  these  were  the  three  that  decided  his  fate: 
Kings,  xix  :20 — And  he  said  unto  him  Go  back  again.  2 
Thess.  11:13 — God  hath  from  the  beginning  chosen  you  to 
salvation.  Daniel  iv:35 — According  to  his  will  in  the 
army  of  heaven. 

"There,  Belle,  could  anything  be  plainer?  We  are 
ordered  back  to  Deadwood.  I  must  join  the  Salvation 
Army/' 

Belle  was  torn  between  her  business  instincts,  her  re 
ligious  training,  and  her  absolute  devotion  to  her  hero.  But 
whatever  the  sum  total,  thus  much  all  things  agreed  on: 
they  must  get  away  from  Cedar  Mountain.  Whither? 
There  seemed  no  answer  but  Deadwood. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Jebb  gave  a  reception  for  the  young 
people  and  Cedar  Mountain  turned  out  strong.  Three 
was  the  hour  named,  and  at  four  the  parsonage  was  full. 
Belle  was  dressed  in  the  simple  gray  that  intensified  her 
colour,  her  brown  eyes  and  gold-brown  hair  were  shining; 
standing  at  the  end  of  the  parlour  she  looked  very  lovely, 
and  all  Cedar  Mountain  glowed  with  pride  in  her. 


WHAT  NEXT?  317 

Jim  was  in  his  glory.  He  frolicked  with  everybody  and 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  gallant  speech  to  Shives's  daughter 
when  some  one  tapped  his  arm  and  dragged  him  off.  It 
was  John  Higginbotham,  anxious  to  get  his  scheme  more 
clearly  into  Jim's  mind.  "Not  only  was  the  main  line  of 
insurance  good,  but  everything  pointed  to  a  land  boom 
soon  in  Deadwood.  Once  the  boom  struck,  the  insurance 
could  be  temporarily  sidetracked.  Then,  allowing  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  capital,  of  which  five  hundred 
dollars  could  be  invested  in  lots  on  10  per  cent,  margin, 
this  would  secure  five  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  lots,  or 
fifty  small  lots  at  present  prices;  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
the  boom,  this  would  speedily  reach  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
when,  of  course,  he  would  sell  and— 

" Hartigan ! "  cried  a  voice.  "Who,  in  Heaven's  name,  is 
concealing  you  ?  Oh,  here  you  are."  It  was  Dr.  Carson. 
"I've  been  thinking  of  you  a  lot  ever  since  this  news  broke 
and  I've  decided  that  you  are  more  like  a  man  than  a 
preacher.  Why  don't  you  cut  out  all  this  piffling  holy  talk 
and  go  in  for  something  you  can  do  ?  Now,  my  theory  is 
that  each  man  can  do  some  one  thing  better  than  any  one 
else;  and,  if  he  has  the  luck  to  have  that  one  thing  for  his 
life  calling,  he's  going  to  make  a  success.  You  know  horses 
better  than  any  man  I  know.  You  knew  enough  to  steal 
my  team,  for  example,  when  you  meant  to  elope." 

"Now,  see  here,"  Hartigan  objected. 

"Don't  interrupt  me,"  said  Carson.  "Jim,  this  is  my 
honest  advice:  get  out  of  this  rotten  little  town.  Go  to 
Deadwood,  or  any  other  big,  rotten  town,  and  start  in  on 
the  horse  business  and  something  will  happen  worth  while." 


318  THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Jim's  eyes  glowed.  It  was  curious  how  the  word  "horse" 
fascinated  him.  "I'll  surely  take  the  first  two  moves  you 
advise:  I'll  get  out  of  this  town  and  I'll  go  to  Deadwood. 
But—  He  stopped.  He  didn't  say  it,  but  he  had 

given  his  "wurd  as  a  mahn"  long  ago  that  his  life  should 
be  devoted  to  the  Church. 

Little  Peaches  was  there  in  a  very  high  collar  and  sang, 
"Jerusalem  the  Golden,"  till  tears  came  to  the  eyes  of  the 
audience.  As  he  began  the  third  score,  Colonel  Waller  and 
his  staff  arrived.  The  old  soldier's  eyes  gleamed  as  he  meas 
ured  the  tall,  straight  form  of  the  Preacher.  "Well,  Jim, 
can't  I  persuade  you  to  enlist?  We  need  a  few  like  you." 

"Sure,  I'm  enlisted  now,"  was  the  reply,  "and  going  to 
the  front;  and  when  I  am  gone,  don't  forget  my  horse." 

"Ha,  ha!  We  are  not  likely  to,"  said  the  Colonel.  "The 
wisest  thing  you  ever  did  for  yourself  was  when  you  sold 
him." 

As  the  party  began  to  break  up  Hannah  Higginbotham 
plucked  Jim's  sleeve  and  whispered:  "If  John  comes  chas 
ing  you  with  a  scheme,  don't  pay  any  attention  to  him. 
He'd  try  to  talk  business  if  you  were  both  swimming  for 
your  lives;  but  a  week  from  now,  we'll  come  to  see  you  at 
Deadwood.  I've  fixed  it  up  with  Belle." 

As  Jim  waited  for  Belle,  who  was  having  a  few  last  words 
with  Mrs.  Jebb,  Charlie  Bylow  came  rather  shyly  for 
ward  with  his  wife.  "Mr.  Hartigan,  I've  got  a  good  team 
now;  in  case  there  is  any  moving  to  do,  I'd  like  to  do  it  for 
you."  And  then  as  if  he  thought  Jim  might  not  under 
stand  he  said :  "We  owe  a  lot  to  you  and  we'd  like  a  chance 
to  pay  it  back." 


WHAT  NEXT?  319 

There  was  one  old  acquaintance  that  did  not  turn  up. 
That  was  Lou-Jane  Hoomer.  Probably  she  was  busy 
packing  her  trunk  for  the  visit  to  Rochester;  at  any  rate, 
upon  her  return  from  the  East,  she  joined  the  Congrega- 
tionalists,  where  she  sang  regularly  in  the  choir  and  soon 
made  such  an  impression  on  the  baritone  that  they  found 
increasing  comfort  in  each  other's  company. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 
BACK  TO   DEADWOOD 

TWO  days  later  Jim  and  Belle  were  again  on  the 
Deadwood  trail.  It  seemed  that  each  new 
chapter  of  their  lives  must  begin  on  that  trail. 
They  were  in  a  new  buckboard,  the  gift  of  Pa  Boyd,  driving 
Midnight  in  harness.  That  same  morning  Charlie  Bylow 
had  left  for  Deadwood  with  his  team  and  wagon.  The 
latter  was  loaded  with  gifts  from  Cedar  Mountain  friends, 
some  of  them  sufficiently  absurd — for  example,  framed 
chromos,  a  parrot  cage,  a  home  instructor  in  Spanish,  and 
a  self-rocking  cradle — but  there  was  also  a  simple  sufficiency 
of  household  furniture. 

The  buckboard  overtook  the  wagon  in  the  morning  and 
arrived  at  Deadwood  by  one  o'clock.  Jim  was  for  going  to 
the  hotel  and  dining,  but  Belle  thought  it  better  to  see  the 
estate  agent  first,  and  within  half  an  hour  they  had  de 
posited  the  first  month's  rent  for  the  white  cottage. 
Strange  to  tell,  though  the  cottage  had  stood  empty  and 
uncalled  for  during  the  previous  six  months,  there  were  two 
other  applications  on  the  afternoon  that  the  Hartigans  se 
cured  their  lease. 

Their  furniture  arrived  late  in  the  day,  and  those  who 
have  watched  newly-mated  birds  carry  the  sticks  and 
straw  of  their  first  nest,  will  understand  the  joy  experienced 

320 


BACK  TO  DEAD  WOOD  321 

by  Belle  and  Jim  in  planning,  arranging,  and  rearranging 
this  first  home.  Whether  it  is  larger  bliss  to  carry  sticks  or 
to  bill  and  coo  cannot  be  guessed,  and  perhaps  it  does  not 
matter,  for  every  stone  in  the  perfect  arch  is  bearing  all  the 
arch.  The  first  night  in  their  own — their  very  own — 
home,  with  no  one  but  themselves,  was  a  sweet  content 
ment  for  the  time  and  a  precious  memory  afterward.  As 
they  sat  hand  in  hand  looking  from  the  little  window  down 
the  valley,  where  the  golden  west  was  blocked  by  the 
high,  dark  hill,  they  knew  calm  for  the  first  time  after 
many  days  of  tempest,  and  Jim's  fervent  soul  found  words 
in  the  ancient  text:  "Truly  the  light  is  sweet;  and  a 
pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun." 

A  very  blessed  thing  is  the  sunrise  on  Deadwood.  It 
means  far  more  than  in  most  towns,  for  the  shut-in-ness  of 
the  gulch  makes  night  so  very  night-like,  and  the  gloom 
is  king  till  the  radiant  one  mounts  to  flood  the  place  with  a 
sudden  sunrise — a  little  late,  perhaps,  but  a  special  sun 
rise  for  the  town. 

It  was  their  first  real  breakfast  together.  Jim  rose  and 
lighted  the  fire  in  the  stove.  Belle  made  the  coffee  and 
fried  the  eggs.  It  was  all  their  own  and  there  is  some 
thing  about  such  a  breakfast  that  gives  it  the  nature  of  a 
sacrament,  with  youth  and  health,  beauty  and  love,  as 
sembled  to  assist,  and  a  special  angel  of  happiness  to  bless 
it  with  his  shining  eyes. 

As  their  talk  turned  to  future  plans,  Jim's  idea  was  to 
settle  down,  find  quarters  for  Midnight,  then  visit  the  Sal 
vation  Army  barracks  and  wait  in  the  crowd  till  an  op 
portunity  to  speak  should  occur.  After  that  he  had  no 


322    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

doubt  his  pulpit  eloquence  would  open  a  way  to  secure  an 
appointment. 

Belle's  idea  was  totally  different.  "No,  Jim,  that  won't 
do.  If  we  enter  the  town  by  the  back  door  we'll  always  be 
back-door  folk.  I  propose  to  come  in  by  the  front  way, 
and 'have  a  red  carpet  and  a  triumphal  arch  for  our  entry. 
Don't  do  anything  until  I  have  tried  a  plan  of  mine. 
Meanwhile,  you  look  after  Midnight." 

Jim's  curiosity  was  very  large,  but  he  smiled  and  asked 
no  questions,  and  Belle  set  out  for  a  visit  to  Uncle  Collins. 
"It  has  to  be  done  just  right,"  she  explained  to  that  gentle 
man  after  an  elaboration  of  her  idea.  Belle  knew  in 
stinctively  that  all  their  fate  in  Deadwood  would  turn  on 
the  colour  of  their  coming.  Uncle  Collins  entered  whole 
heartedly  .into  the  plan  and  that  week,  much  to  Jim's 
amazement,  the  local  press  came  out  with  a  column  article: 

DISTINGUISHED  ARRIVALS   IN   DEADWOOD 

Our  townsfolk  are  to  be  congratulated  on  the  latest  increase  to  our 
population.  The  Rev.  James  Hartigan  and  his  beautiful  bride,  for 
merly  Miss  Boyd,  of  Cedar  Mountain,  have  yielded  to  the  call  of 
Deadwood  and  decided  to  make  their  home  in  the  mining  capital  of 
Dakota.  They  have  taken  the  White  Cottage  on  Southview  Avenue 
(Muggins  &  Mawlins  Real  Estate  Company)  and  will  be  at  home  Fri 
day  afternoon. 

Dr.  Hartigan  was  educated  at  Coulter  College,  Ontario,  and  won 
his  spurs  long  ago  as  a  pulpit  orator.  While  devoting  his  life  to  the 
ministry,  he  is  also  a  man  of  means  and  is  likely  to  make  important 
investments  in  Deadwood  as  favourable  opportunities  present  them 
selves.  In  fact,  it  was  largely  the  need  of  such  opportunity  that  led 
to  the  selection  of  Deadwood  as  his  future  home. 

We  are  proud  of  the  tribute  to  our  promise  as  a  town,  and  the  dis 
tinguished  couple  will  find  us  ready  to  greet  them  with  a  hearty  wel 
come. 


BACK  TO  DEADWOOD  323 

Jim  laughed  joyously  as  he  read  it  in  the  paper  next 
day.  "Sure,  Belle,  every  word  of  it  is  true  and  every 
thing  it  leaves  you  believing  is  a  lie.  I  never  knew  how 
far  astray  you  could  put  folk  by  telling  the  simple 
truth." 

One  or  two  meetings  in  the  street  and  a  few  observa 
tions  from  Aunt  Collins,  led  Belle  to  expect  some  callers 
on  Friday  afternoon,  but  she  never  dreamed  of  the  re 
ception  that  did  take  place.  Fortunately  she  had  notice, 
an  hour  before,  to  treble  the  amount  of  tea  provided;  then, 
in  a  flash,  a  great  idea  entered  her  head. 

"Jim,"  she  said,  "this  is  going  to  be  a  very  important 
event  in  our  lives,  we  are  going  to  meet  some  people  to-day 
who  will  shape  all  our  future.  There  will  be  men  of  busi 
ness  here  and  men  high  in  the  churches;  they  will  be  sure  to 
make  you  some  sort  of  an  offer,  many  offers  of  different 
kinds.  Encourage  them,  don't  turn  any  of  them  down; 
but  don't  definitely  accept  any  of  them.  Now  promise, 
Jim,  you  won't  accept  any  of  them." 

"I  wouldn't  dare,"  said  Jim,  "after  this" — and  he  held 
up  the  local  paper  with  a  grin.  "I'm  in  the  hands  of  my 
manager." 

It  was  well  for  him  that  he  agreed.  Mrs.  Collins  was 
there  to  assist — beaming  with  pride.  Uncle  Collins  came 
late  and  looked  bored  and  uncomfortable.  Belle  was  in 
her  glory.  She  was  of  that  delicate  type  which  changes 
much  with  varying  circumstance,  and  now  she  seemed 
radiantly  beautiful.  All  the  guests  that  day  agreed  that 
they  were  far  and  away  the  handsomest  couple  that  had 
ever  come  to  Deadwood,  and  surely  they  should  have 


324    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

known,  for  all  Deadwood  came.  The  mayor  came  be 
cause  he  felt  a  fatherly  interest  in  the  couple  he  had  mar 
ried;  and  besides,  they  were  an  important  accession  to  the 
population.  "  Hartigan,"  he  began,  "  If  I  had  your  money 
I'd  make  a  deal  with  the  Northern  Pacific.  I  tell  you  their 
new  president  is  a  live  wire.  He's  ready  to  close  on  any 
good  idea,"  etc.,  etc.  The  ministers  came  because  they  had 
heard  of  Dr.  Hartigan's  accomplishments  and  wished  to 
pay  their  respects;  and  Dr.  Hooper,  of  the  Congregation- 
alists,  said  he  would  be  glad  if  Dr.  Hartigan  would  occupy 
his  pulpit  the  coming  Sunday.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Mackenzie, 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  offered  his  pulpit;  and  so  did 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Jowley,  of  the  Evangelicals.  To  all  of  these 
Jim  made  gracious  and  happy  replies,  deferring  definite 
answer  until  he  should  be  able  to  consult  his  date  book  and 
complete  certain  other  arrangements. 

The  Presbyterian  also  took  the  opportunity  of  privately 
whispering  to  Dr.  Hartigan  that  he,  Dr.  Mackenzie,  had 
"just  discovered  a  rare  business  opportunity — a  whole  block 
of  staked  and  patented  gold  claims  on  the  same  lead  as  the 
'Homestake';  the  owner  was  compelled  to  sell  out  owing 
to  family  troubles,  and  would  take  ten  thousand  dollars 
cash  for  49  per  cent,  of  the  stock — an  absolute  certainty 
of  a  million  within  a  year!  Dr.  Mackenzie  would  turn 
over  this  unique  and  dazzling  opportunity  to  Dr.  Hartigan 
for  the  modest  sum  of  one  thousand  dollars,  which  was  less 
than  10  per  cent.,  if  expenses  were  included.  .  .  ."  and 
so  on,  at  much  length. 

The  head  of  the  Bar-Bell  Ranch  called  because  he  had 
heard  of  the  famous  racer,  Blazing  Star,  that  was  bred  in 


BACK  TO  DEADWOOD  325 

the  Hartigan  stables,  and  he  would  like  Dr.  Hartigan  to 
visit  him  and  see  his  horses. 

The  insurance  companies  also  were  represented,  and 
Bob  Davidson — he  declined  at  all  times  the  "Mr." — 
managed  to  get  in  a  word  privately  to  the  effect  that  he 
hoped  that  the  Reverend  Hartigan  would  make  no  business 
alliance  until  he  had  been  to  the  Davidson  office  and  seen 
the  possibilities  of  one  or  two  little  schemes  that  needed 
"only  a  very  little  capital  to  pay " 

The  reception  lasted  three  hours  and  the  account  of  it  in 
the  paper  next  day  covered  several  columns.  The  impres 
sion  it  left  on  Jim  was  pleasing,  but  confusing.  The  single 
immediate  and  pleasant  result  was  when  the  local  lum 
berman,  learning  that  Hartigan  wished  to  erect  a  stable 
for  his  own  team,  volunteered  to  send  round  one  thousand 
feet  of  the  special  siding,  of  which  he  was  exclusive  agent, 
together  with  the  necessary  amount  of  tar  paper,  on  con 
dition  that  the  stable  should  bear  the  signboard: 


SQUELCHER  SPECIAL  MATCHED  SIDING 
JOHN  JOHNSON,   SOLE  AGENT 


So  the  siding  came  and  Jim  built  the  stable  with  his  own 
hands  and  gloried  in  every  nail  as  he  drove  it.  Midnight 
was  thereupon  withdrawn  from  a  livery  stable  and  in 
stalled  with  due  pride  and  pomp. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 
THE   FORK  IN  THE   TRAIL 

THE  reception  was  over.  Jim  and  Belle  had  supped 
at  Aunt  Collins's  and  were  back  again  in  the  cot 
tage,  sitting  by  the  kitchen  stove,  in  which  Jim  had 
just  kindled  a  blazing  fire,  for  the  evenings  were  cold. 
They  were  glad  to  be  together  again  by  themselves,  and  to 
talk  things  over. 

Jim  put  a  new  block  in  the  stove;  then,  sitting  down,  re 
marked:  "For  a  capitalist  who  contemplates  buying  up 
part  of  the  town,  securing  a  new  railroad,  and  cornering  a 
township  of  gold  ore,  this  is  quite  a  modest  layout/' 

"Now  while  it's  fresh,"  she  replied,  "let's  have  the  whole 
thing;  especially  the  invitations."  She  took  paper  and 
wrote  them  down  as  he  recited  them.  Then,  with  a  good 
deal  of  shrewdness,  she  proceeded  to  appraise  one  by 
one. 

The  gold  mine,  the  railroad,  and  the  livery  barn  she 
treated  with  a  joyous  laugh;  she  liked  them  as  symptoms. 
The  town  lot  matter  was  worth  looking  into. 

As  for  the  invitations  to  preach,  compared  with  the 
Presbyterians,  the  Evangelicals  were  a  larger  body;  but  the 
Congregationalists,  much  smaller,  were  more  solid.  The 
last  had  a  fine  church  with  a  strong  membership  of  well-to-do 
men,  but  they  also  had  an  able  preacher  of  their  own  par- 

326 


THE  FORK  IN  THE  TRAIL  327 

ticular  doctrines,  so  that  Belle  gave  preference  to  the 
Evangelicals. 

"We  must  concentrate  our  big  guns  on  them,  Jim;  get 
out  your  best  sermon,  the  one  on  'Show  thyself  a  man' 
(i  Kings  11:2).  Keep  that  for  the  big  crowd  in  the  evening. 
Next  Sunday,  at  the  Congregational  Church  you  can  give 
them  the  same  thing,  for  it  will  be  a  different  crowd;  but  at 
night,  why  not  give  them  your  sermon  on  'Kindness'  that 
made  such  a  hit  in  Cedar  Mountain." 

"Well,  where  does  the  Salvation  Army  come  in,  Belle?" 
"It  doesn't  come  in  just  now";  and  inwardly  she  hoped 
she  might  be  able  to  keep  it  out  altogether.  Play  for  time 
and  hope  for  luck  was  her  plan.  But  she  was  secretly  wor 
ried  by  the  superstitious  importance  which  he  attached  to 
the  three  texts,  picked  at  random  from  the  Scripture  that 
day  in  Cedar  Mountain,  and  by  the  interpretation  he 
gave  them.  But  she  thought  it  best  to  avoid  the  sub 
ject.  First  she  sorted  the  invitations,  adjusted  a  de 
sirable  programme,  and  then  sent  a  courteous  reply  to 
each,  accepting  or  declining.  And  it  was  done  in  such  a 
way  that  none  were  hurt  and  most  were  pleased.  Then 
happened  two  of  the  accidents  she  had  prayed  for.  As 
Jim  strode  home  about  noon  one  day,  he  heard  a  rabble  of 
small  boys  jeering  and  shouting,  "  Holy  Billy !  Holy  Billy ! 
Salvation!  Salvation!"  He  turned  to  see  them  pursued 
by  a  fat,  middle-aged  man,  who  after  several  attempts  to 
drive  them  away,  at  length  seized  a  pitch  fork  from  those 
exhibited  outside  a  hardware  store  and,  intent  on  reveng 
ing  himself,  ran  after  the  children.  The  youngsters  fled, 
save  one,  who  fell;  and  the  furious  fat  man  made  a  vicious 


328    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

prod  with  the  fork.  It  might  easily  have  proved  fatal,  but 
Jim  was  near  enough  to  seize  the  man's  arm  and  wrest  the 
fork  from  him.  The  fat  man  was  white  with  rage.  He 
blustered  a  good  deal  and  finally  went  off  sputtering  comi 
cally  although  he  used  no  cuss-words. 

That  evening  Jim  and  Belle  went  to  the  Salvation  Army 
barracks,  with  the  fixed  intention  of  taking  part  in 
the  worship  as  fully  as  might  be  permitted.  On  their 
arrival  Jim  was  utterly  surprised  to  find  that  the  uniformed 
Captain  in  command  was  the  fat  little  fury  of  the  street 
episode;  and  still  more  astonished  when  that  rotund  person 
peremptorily  ordered  him  out  of  the  building.  As  the 
rest  of  the  Salvationists  dutifully  supported  their  Captain, 
Jim  had  no  choice,  and  with  a  feeling  of  sadness  that  was 
not  shared  by  Belle,  he  turned  out  into  the  street. 

There  are  many  drives  about  Deadwood,  but  not  many 
good  roads.  The  scenery,  not  the  pavement,  is  the  allure 
ment;  and  in  the  morning,  the  young  couple  took  a  short 
drive  to  learn  the  trails.  They  had  not  gone  a  mile  when 
they  were  brought  to  a  standstill  by  a  lumber  wagon  stuck 
in  the  middle  of  the  narrow  road  and  quite  immovable.  It 
was  not  the  weight  of  the  load  or  the  fault  of  the  road,  but 
because  one  of  the  horses  was  on  strike — he  baulked  and  re 
fused  absolutely  to  pull.  Held  up  by  the  blockade,  on  the 
other  side,  were  two  buggies  with  men  and  women. 

The  teamster  was  just  a  plain,  every-day  bungler.  He 
began  by  urging  the  obstinate  horse  with  voice  and  whip; 
but  at  each  fresh  application  the  creature  merely  laid  back 
his  ears,  shook  his  head,  and  set  his  feet  more  resolutely 
against  all  progress.  At  last  the  driver  worked  himself 


THE  FORK  IN  THE  TRAIL  329 

into  a  rage.  He  lashed  the  horse  with  all  his  strength,  the 
only  effect  being  to  leave  long  lines  on  the  animal's  coat 
and  cause  him  to  kick  out  frantically  with  his  hind  feet. 

"Man  alive!"  said  Jim,  leaving  Belle's  side  and  walking 
forward,  "that's  no  way  to  handle  a  horse.  Let  me " 

A  volume  of  abuse  interrupted  him.  "You  go  on  and 
mind  your  d — n  business,"  said  the  teamster.  "Tm  taking 
care  of  this."  In  uncontrollable  fury  he  beat  the  horse  over 
the  head  with  the  butt  end  of  his  whip  till  it  broke  in  two. 

"See  here,  if  you  don't  stop  that  I'll  take  a  hand  in  it!" 
shouted  Jim,  thoroughly  aroused. 

The  answer  yelled  back  was  not  printable.  It  reflected 
not  only  on  the  Rev.  James  Hartigan,  but  on  all  his  an 
cestors.  Then,  in  an  instant,  the  insane  brute  took  a 
wooden  hand-spike  from  his  load  and  dealt  the  horse  a 
terrific  blow  on  the  head.  The  beast  staggered,  almost  fell, 
but  recovered  just  as  the  driver,  shouting,  "I'll  larn  you!'5 
landed  another  blow  and  hauled  back  for  a  third  that 
would  have  felled  if  not  killed  the  horse.  But  Jim  got 
there  first.  He  jerked  the  club  out  of  the  man's  hand  and 
as  the  attack  turned  on  himself,  he  laid  the  driver  out  with 
a  deft  tap  of  the  kind  he  knew  so  well.  The  other  man 
with  the  load  now  rushed  at  Jim  to  avenge  his  fallen 
leader.  But  it  is  easy  to  meet  that  sort  of  onset  when  you 
know  the  game  and  have  the  muscle.  The  second  went 
down  on  top  of  the  first  teamster  amid  loud  cheers  from 
the  men  in  the  buggies. 

Five  years  before,  in  this  country,  Jim  would  certainly 
have  been  shot  within  the  first  five  minutes,  but  the  law 
and  order  society  had  been  doing  good  work,  and  now  men 


330    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

did  not  carry  revolvers  as  of  old,  so  nature's  weapons 
counted  as  firearms  once  had  done. 

"Jim!"  called  Belle  feebly.  "Let's  go."  He  turned; 
she  was  ghastly  pale,  as  she  held  on  to  Midnight.  She  had 
never  before  seen  men  fight.  She  was  appalled  and  terri 
fied. 

"Dear  child,"  he  laughed,  almost  gleefully,  "you're  not 
used  to  it.  Don't  take  it  so  seriously.  Sure  it's  fun  and 
it's  missionary  work.  Don't  be  worried  at  seeing  men 
tumbled  over.  As  soon  as  those  two  fools  come  to  and 
stand  on  end,  I'll  show  them  how  to  drive  a  horse."  He 
straightened  out  the  two  men  he  had  stunned,  and  then 
went  to  the  trembling  horse. 

As  he  laid  his  hand  on  its  shoulder  it  shrank.  He  talked 
softly  and  began  to  examine  the  harness.  Sure  enough, 
there  was  a  mass  of  cockle  burrs  caught  in  the  long  mane 
and  wedged  under  the  collar,  so  that  every  pull  of  the  har 
ness  drove  the  sharp  spines  into  the  animal's  shoulder. 
Jim  loosened  the  collar,  cut  off  the  mass  of  burrs,  sacrificed 
his  handkerchief  to  make  a  soft  pad,  and  replaced  the 
collar.  Meanwhile,  the  two  teamsters  were  sitting  up  and 
looking  on  with  little  joy  in  their  faces. 

"Now  you  two  ignorant  babes,  I'll  show  you  how  to 
drive  a  horse  that  you've  made  baulky;  and  I  want  you  to 
know  that  there  are  not  any  baulky  horses;  it's  baulky  driv 
ers  that  make  the  trouble."  He  went  to  the  creature's 
head,  talked  to  it,  stroked  its  nose,  blew  in  its  nostrils,  and 
continued  to  talk  till  the  ears  no  longer  lay  back  at  his 
touch.  Presently  the  eyes  ceased  rolling  and  the  legs  were 
not  bracing  nervously. 


THE  FORK  IN  THE  TRAIL  331 

"Now,"  said  Jim  softly,  "will  you  be  after  pulling  a 
little  ?  Yes  ?  Come  now,"  he  coaxed  wheedlingly,  "  come 
now,"  and  he  tightened  the  lines.  But  the  horse  shook  his 
head,  showed  temper  as  before,  and  held  back. 

"Oh,  that's  what  ye  want,  is  it  ? "  said  Jim.  "All  right, 
back  up  it  is,"  and  gently  manoeuvring,  he  shouted: 
"Back!"  Both  horses  backed.  He  kept  them  backing, 
and  by  deft  steering,  held  the  wagon  in  the  road.  Back 
they  went  steadily.  Now  the  baulky  horse  indicated  his 
willingness  to  go  on;  but  Jim  wasn't  ready.  It  was  back, 
back,  and  back  some  more.  For  a  hundred  yards  he  kept 
it  up.  At  last,  when  he  changed  about  and  gave  the  order 
to  "Get  up!"  the  one-time  baulky  horse  was  only  too  glad 
to  change  his  gear  and  pull  his  very  best.  Jim  took  the 
load  up  the  little  hill,  and  on  a  quarter  mile,  where  he 
waited  for  the  original  teamsters  to  come  up. 

"There,  now,"  said  Jim  as  he  handed  over  the  lines  to  the 
sullen  driver,  "you  should  have  found  that  bunch  of 
cockle  burrs.  It  was  all  your  fault,  not  the  horse's.  And 
if  he  hadn't  responded  to  the  backing,  I'd  have  tied  a 
pebble  in  his  ear  and  left  him  for  a  few  minutes  to  think  it 
over.  Then  he'd  have  gone  all  right;  it  never  fails.  I  tell 
you  there  aren't  any  baulky  horses  if  they  are  rightly 
handled." 

A  cheer  came  from  the  buggies  as  the  load  of  timber 
rolled  away  around  the  hill.  As  Hartigan  got  in  beside 
Belle  the  two  rigs  came  by.  The  men  shouted,  "Good  for 
you!  That  was  a  fine  job." 

Jim  blushed  with  pleasure;  it  was  all  so  simple  and  famil 
iar  to  him;  but  when  he  turned  to  look  at  Belle,  she  was 


332    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

white  and  ill.  "Let's  go  home,  Jim,"  she  whispered.  He 
looked  at  her  in  some  surprise;  then  slowly  it  dawned  on 
him — she  had  never  before  seen  the  roughness  of  men  fight 
ing.  To  him  it  was  no  more  than  the  heavy  sport  of  the 
football  field.  To  her  it  was  brutality  unloosed;  it  was 
shocking,  disgusting,  next  to  murder.  With  mingled  feel 
ings  of  regret,  amusement,  and  surprise  he  said,  "Dear  heart, 
you  take  it  all  too  seriously."  Then  he  put  his  arm  about 
her,  tender  as  a  woman,  and  a  few  minutes  later  placed  her 
gently  in  the  rocking  chair  in  the  white  cottage. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 
THE   POWER   OF   PERSONALITY- 

WHO  is  that?"  said  an  elderly  man  in  one  of  the 
buggies  that  passed  Hartigan  after  the  adven 
ture  with  the  baulky  horse. 

"I  think  it's  the  new  preacher,"  said  the  driver. 
"Anyhow,  we  can  easily  see."  They  watched  the  buck- 
board  with  the  black  horse  and  saw  it  turn  in  at  the  white 
cottage. 

"My  guess  was  right,  Mr.  Hopkins,"  said  the  driver. 
"I  haven't  been  in  church  for  two  years,  but  I'm  going  to 
hear  that  fellow  preach  next  Sunday,  all  right." 

"Why  don't  you  go  to  church?"  said  the  older  man,  who 
by  his  dress  and  manner  was  apparently  some  one  of 
social  importance. 

"Oh,  I  dunno.  I  got  out  of  the  habit  when  I  came  out 
West,"  said  the  driver. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  hear  this  man?" 

"Well,  he  kind  o'  makes  one  think  he's  'some  punkins.5 
He's  a  real  man.  He  ain't  just  a  sickly  dough-lump  as  the 
bunch  mostly  is." 

John  Hopkins,  President  of  the  Dakota  Flour  and  Mill 
ing  Company,  Regent  of  Madison  University,  man  of 
affairs,  philosopher  and  patron  of  a  great  many  things,  was 
silent  for  some  time.  He  was  pondering  the  question  of 

333 


334    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

the  day  and  the  light  just  thrown  on  it.  Why  don't  men 
go  to  church?  This  Black  Hills  driver  had  answered: 
"Because  the  preachers  are  a  bunch  of  dough-lumps." 
Whatever  this  might  mean,  it  was,  at  best,  a  backhanded 
compliment  to  Hartigan.  Yet,  the  driver  was  anxious  to 
hear  the  new  preacher.  Why?  Because  he  was  impressed 
with  his  personality.  It  all  resolved  itself  into  that;  the 
all-ruling  law  of  personality.  How  wise,  thought  Hop 
kins,  was  the  Church  that  set  aside  rules,  dogmas,  and 
scholastic  attainments  to  make  room  for  a  teacher  of  real 
personality;  such  was  the  Founder's  power. 

Along  with  the  livery  driver  and  a  hundred  more  than 
the  church  could  hold,  Hopkins  went  that  night  to  the 
Evangelical  Church  to  hear  Hartigan.  The  Preacher's 
choice  of  hymns  was  martial;  he  loved  the  trumpets  of  the 
Lord.  His  prayers  were  tender  and  sincere;  and  his  sermon 
on  kindness — human  kindness,  spontaneous,  for  its  own 
sake,  not  dictated  by  a  creed — was  a  masterpiece  of  genuine 
eloquence.  His  face  and  figure  were  glorified  in  his  effort. 
The  story  of  his  active  sympathy  with  the  injured  horse 
had  got  about,  and  won  the  hearts  of  all.  They  came 
ready  to  love  him,  and — responding  to  the  warm,  magnetic 
influence — he  blazed  forth  into  the  compelling  eloquence 
that  was  native  to  his  Celtic  blood.  He  was  gentle  and 
impassioned;  he  spoke  as  never  before.  They  heard  him 
breathlessly;  they  loved  his  simple,  Irish  common  sense. 
He  held  them  in  the  hollow  of  his  hands.  The  half  hour 
allotted  had  been  reached,  and  his  story  was  told,  and  yet, 
not  fully  told.  For  a  moment  he  paused,  while  his  eyes 
sought  a  happy  face  in  the  nearest  pew.  Belle  gently  drew 


THE  POWER  OF  PERSONALITY         335 

her  watch.  Mindful  of  their  careful  plan,  he  stopped  at 
the  signal,  raised  his  hands,  and  said,  "Let  us  pray."  With 
one  great  sigh,  the  congregation  kneeled  before  him,  and 
with  him,  in  body  and  spirit,  and  prayed  as  they  never  be 
fore  had  prayed  in  Deadwood. 


After  the  service  the  young  preacher  came  forward  to 
meet  the  people.  He  was  uplifted  and  radiant  with  a 
sense  of  power,  with  all  the  magic  influence  of  the  place 
and  thought;  and  they  crowded  round  him,  many  with 
tears  in  their  eyes. 

An  elderly  man  of  polished  manner  pushed  through  the 
circle  and  shook  him  by  the  hand.  "I'm  a  stranger  in 
town,"  he  said;  "here's  my  card.  May  I  call  on  you  to 
morrow?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  Preacher.  And  the  stranger  dis 
appeared. 

There  was  a  holy  joy  enveloping  the  little  white  cottage 
that  night  as  they  sat  together  reviewing  the  events  of  the 
day.  "  Don't  you  see,  Jim,  how  much  better  it  was  to  stop 
then?  It's  a  thousand  times  better  to  have  them  go  away 
saying:  'Why  did  he  stop  so  soon?'  rather  than:  'Yes, 
wonderful,  inspiring;  but  too  long.'  They  will  now  be 
keener  than  ever  to  hear  you.  You  never  spoke  so  well  be 
fore.  Oh,  my  dear,  I  was  never  so  proud  of  you!  Now  I 
know,  without  a  doubt,  that  you  are  a  chosen  vessel  of  the 
Lord." 

He  held  her  in  his  mighty  arms  and  kissed  the  gold- 
brown  hair.  "It's  all  your  doing,  Belle.  I'm  a  rudderless 


336    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

ship  without  you."     Then,  after  a  long  pause :  "  I'm  think 
ing  of  my  first  visit  to  Deadwood." 

She  spoke  no  word,  but  pressed  her  frail  face  against  the 
knotted  muscles  of  his  great  throat  and  gently  stroked  his 
cheek. 


CHAPTER  L 
THE   CALL  TO  CHICAGO 

GET  up,  you  lazy  giant;  the  breakfast  is  ready/'  she 
called  from  the  dining  room.     In  truth,  he  had 
been  up  to  light  the  fire  and  chop  some  wood,  but 
was  now  reading  in  bed. 

"Jim,  I  want  you  to  be  prepared  for  something  very  im 
portant  to-day.  I  have  a  presentiment  that  this  means 
something."  She  held  up  the  card  that  had  been  pre 
sented  after  the  service  the  evening  before,  and  read: 

MR.   JOHN   HOPKINS, 
ENGLEWOOD,   CHICAGO 

"If  he  comes  with  a  proposition,  don't  accept  it  off 
hand.  Ask  for  a  little  while  to  consider." 

Belle  put  on  her  smartest  frock  that  morning  and  pressed 
Jim's  trousers  and  tied  his  necktie  repeatedly  till  its  form 
was  right.  With  a  very  critical  eye  she  studied  his  ap 
pearance  and  her  own,  and  that  of  the  house,  from  every 
angle.  Why?  Would  any  business  man  make  note  of  such 
things?  Detailed  note,  no;  perhaps  not.  But  the  sum 
total  of  such  trifles — expressing  decorum,  experience, 
worldly  wisdom  of  the  kind  that  makes  itself  felt  as  tact, 
and  judgment  that  is  better  than  genius  as  guarantee  of 
success — would  unquestionably  produce  its  effect. 

337 


338    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Promptly  at  ten  thirty  A.  M.,  Mr.  John  Hopkins  called. 
He  apologized  for  the  unseemly  hour,  but  said  he  was  leav 
ing  town  at  noon.  His  first  impression  of  Belle  was  a  very 
delightful  one.  He  found  her  refined  and  cultured  and  he 
recalled  the  advice  of  a  certain  old  bishop:  "Never  give  a 
call  to  a  clergyman  unless  you  are  satisfied  to  call  his  wife 
as  well."  There  was  no  use  denying  it,  the  wife  was  as  im 
portant  as  the  preacher;  she  could  build  up  or  disrupt 
the  congregation,  and  so  she  made  a  double  problem;  that 
is  why  Rome  ruled  the  wives  out  altogether. 

Mr.  Hopkins  was  a  citizen  of  the  world;  he  approached 
the  object  of  the  visit  gracefully,  but  without  loss  of  time. 
The  Evangelical  Alliance  needed  a  man  of  personality  and 
power  to  carry  on  its  work  in  the  slums  of  South  Chicago 
among  the  iron-workers.  The  church  cared  nothing  about 
creeds  or  methods — applied  no  gauge  but  results;  the  best 
result  was  a  diffusion  of  human  kindness.  The  salary  was 
twenty-five  hundred  a  year,  with  one  week  vacation  at 
Christmas  and  one  month  at  midsummer.  He,  John 
Hopkins,  as  President  of  the  Board  of  Deacons,  was  em 
powered  to  select  a  man,  and  now  made  formal  offer  of  the 
post  to  the  Rev.  James  Hartigan.  Mr.  Hartigan  might 
have  a  week  to  decide;  but  Mr.  Hopkins  would  greatly  pre 
fer  it  if  Mr.  Hartigan  could  decide  before  noon  that  day 
when  Mr.  Hopkins  was  leaving  town.  Until  stage  time  he 
could  be  found  at  the  Temperance  House. 

He  rose  quickly  to  go.  Belle  asked  if  he  would,  at  his 
convenience,  put  the  offer  in  writing,  so  that  they  might  be 
clear  as  to  details,  indicatingwhetherit  was  understood  to  be 
by  the  year  and  permanent,  or  for  a  time  on  approbation. 


THE  CALL  TO  CHICAGO  339 

"I'll  do  that  now,"  he  replied.  Taking  the  writing  ma 
terials  that  she  brought,  he  wrote  and  signed  the  formal 
call,  with  the  intimation  that  it  was  for  one  year,  subject  to 
renewal. 

As  soon  as  their  caller  was  safely  gone,  Jim  picked  up 
Belle  in  his  arms  and,  marching  up  and  down  with  her  as  if 
she  had  been  a  baby,  he  fairly  gasped:  "You  are  a  wonder! 
You  are  a  wonder!  If  I  had  gone  my  way,  where  should  I 
be  now?  A  drunkard  or  a  cowboy;  maybe  in  jail;  or,  at 
best,  a  doorkeeper  in  the  Salvation  Army.  Oh,  Belle,  I 
swear  I'll  never  pick  a  trail  or  open  my  mouth — never  do  a 
thing — without  first  consulting  you."  And  the  elation  of 
the  moment  exploded  into  a  burst  of  Irish  humour.  "  Now, 
please  ma'am,  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"What  are  we  to  do,  you  mean,"  retorted  Belle.  "Well, 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  we  haven't  got  the  cash  the  folks 
here  think  we  have,  we  must  do  something.  Twenty-five 
hundred  dollars  a  year  is  an  improvement  on  three  hundred 
a  year,  and  as  there  is  no  other  positive  offer  in  sight,  I  vote 
for  accepting." 

"That  settles  it.    What  right  has  a  worm  like  me  to  vote  ? " 

"That's  a  poor  metaphor,  Jim;  try  again." 

"All  right!  The  mighty  Captain  of  this  warship 
accepts  the  advice  of  the  insignificant  pilot — who  happens 
to  know  the  channel.  How  is  that?" 

"It  can't  be  done,  Jim.  I  may  help  the  guiding,  but 
without  you  I'd  have  nothing  to  guide.  Each  of  us  gives 
his  best  to  the  combine — each  is  a  half  of  the  arch;  not 
simply  are  we  twice  as  strong  together,  but  twenty  times  as 
strong  as  we  should  be  singly." 


340  THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"Now  for  the  call.  Do  you  realize,  Jim,  that  it  means 
good-bye  to  the  prairies,  good-bye  to  the  hills,  and  good 
bye  to  Midnight?" 

Jim  nodded  and  looked  grave.  Belle  went  on:  "But  it 
also  means  living  the  life  that  you  long  ago  elected  to  live — 
being  a  chosen  instrument  of  good  to  bring  blessings  to 
those  whose  lives  are  black  with  sorrow  and  despair.  It 
means  giving  up  all  the  physical  pleasures  you  love  so 
deeply  and  rightly;  but  it  also  means  following  the  Master. 
Which  is  it  to  be?" 

"I  know,"  he  responded,  "I  know.  But  Belle,  dear,  I 
never  had  a  moment  of  doubt  when  I  had  to  decide 
between  Belle  and  Blazing  Star;  why  should  I  hesitate 
now  when  it's  Midnight  or  Christ  ? " 

So  the  letter  was  written  and  delivered  forthwith  at  the 
Temperance  Hotel.  One  week  later  Belle  and  Jim  were 
driving  again  toward  Cedar  Mountain,  headed  for  the  rail 
way  which  was  to  take  them  to  Chicago.  As  they  swung 
down  the  trail  Belle  looked  out  on  the  familiar  objects  and 
said: 

"Here  we  are  again  at  the  beginning  of  a  new  chapter; 
and  again  it  starts  on  the  old  Deadwood  trail." 


CHAPTER  LI 
THESE   LITTLE   ONES 

IT  WAS  a  long  but  easy  journey  down  south  to  the 
Union  Pacific,  and  finally  east  to  Chicago.  And 
when  the  young  couple,  whom  the  passengers 
watched  with  much  interest,  arrived  at  the  great  city,  they 
found  half  a  dozen  men  and  women  of  importance  awaiting 
them  at  the  Union  Station,  with  more  servants  to  assist 
them  than  they  had  pieces  of  luggage.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hopkins,  with  their  own  carriage,  were  in  attendance  to 
offer  the  hospitality  of  their  house  to  the  Rev.  James  Harti- 
gan  and  his  bride.  It  was  a  long  drive  to  Englewood;  but 
everything  that  kind  friends,  clear  skies,  and  human  fore 
thought  could  do  to  make  it  pleasant  was  fully  done.  For 
the  time  being,  they  were  installed  in  the  Hopkins  mansion 
—a  veritable  palace — and  for  the  first  time  Jim  had  the 
chance  to  learn  how  the  rich  folk  really  live.  While  it  was 
intensely  interesting,  he  was  eager  to  see  the  field  of  his 
future  work.  Belle,  however,  agreed  with  their  host  and 
hostess  that  it  would  be  worth  while  to  see  a  little  of 
Chicago  first. 

The  stockyards  are  either  fascinating  or  intensely  dis 
gusting.  The  Hartigans  had  their  fill  of  them  in  five  min 
utes.  The  Art  Institute  had  not  yet  been  built,  but  there 
were  museums  and  galleries  and  good  music  in  many 

341 


342    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

places.  Lincoln  Park  and  the  great  rolling,  gusty  lake 
were  pleasant  to  behold;  but  to  Jim,  the  biggest  thing  of  all 
—the  thing  of  which  the  buildings  and  the  crowds  were 
mere  manifestations — was  the  vast  concentration  of  human 
life,  strife,  and  emotion — the  throb  and  compulsion  of  this, 
the  one  great  heart  of  the  West. 

There  was  dirt  in  the  street  everywhere;  there  were 
hideous  buildings  and  disgusting  vulgarities  on  every  side, 
and  crime  in  view  on  nearly  every  corner;  but  still  one  had 
to  feel  that  this  was  the  vital  spot,  this  the  great  blood 
centre  of  a  nation,  young,  but  boiling  with  energy,  bound 
less  in  promise — a  city  with  a  vital  fire  in  its  heart  that 
would  one  day  burn  the  filth  and  dross  away  and  show  the 
world  the  dream  of  the  noblest  dreamers  all  come  true — 
established,  gigantic,  magnificent.  There  is  thrill  and  in 
spiration — simple,  natural,  and  earthy — in  the  Canyon 
where  the  Cheyenne  cut  the  hills;  but  this  was  a  different 
thrill  that  slowly  grew  to  a  rumble  in  Jim's  heart  as  he 
felt  the  current  floods  of  mind,  of  life,  of  sin,  of  hope  that 
flowed  from  a  million  springs  in  that  deep  Wabash  Canyon 
that  carved  in  twain  the  coming  city  of  ten  million  hopes 
that  are  sprung  from  the  drifted  ashes  of  a  hundred  million 
black  and  burnt  despairs. 

Hartigan  had  ever  been  a  man  of  the  saddle  and  the  open 
field;  but  gazing  from  the  top  of  that  tall  tower  above  the 
station,  sensing  the  teeming  life,  the  sullen  roar,  far  below, 
he  glimpsed  another  world — a  better  thing,  for  it  was  big 
ger — which,  in  its  folded  mantle,  held  the  unborn  parent,  the 
gentler-bornparent,  of  themighty  change — theblessed  clean 
up  that  every  wise  man  prays  for  and  works  to  bring  about. 


THESE  LITTLE  ONES  343 

What  place  were  they  to  occupy  in  this  maelstrom? 
Two  ways  were  open — one,  to  dwell  in  the  dungeons  and 
the  horrors  as  poor:  among  the  poor;  the  other,  to  come  as 
different  beings — as  frequent  visitors — from  another  wo  rid. 
Jim,  with  his  whole-souled  abandon,  was  for  the  former; 
but  Belle  thought  that  all  he  would  gain  in  that  way  would 
be  more  than  offset  by  loss  of  touch  with  the  other  world. 
At  that  time  those  two  worlds  were  at  war  and  she  con 
tended  that  his  place  was  to  stand  between  the  world  of 
power  and  the  world  of  need. 

Their  compromise  was  a  little  flat  on  the  second  floor  of  a 
house  in  Englewood,  near  enough  to  the  rolling  Lake  to 
afford  a  glimpse  of  it  and  convenient  to  the  open  stretch 
that  is  now  the  famous  Jackson  Park.  Here,  with  pretty 
rugs  and  curtains  and  pictures  of  horses  and  hills,  they  lined 
the  home  nest  and  gathered  the  best  thoughts  of  the  lives 
they  had  lived.  Here  at  all  times  they  could  come  assured 
of  peace  and  rest. 

Then  came  the  meeting  with  the  Board  of  Deacons,  the 
preliminary  visits  to  the  field  of  work,  where  the  streets 
were  full  of  misery  and  the  slum  life  rampant.  A  few 
short  blocks  away  was  another  world — a  world  of  palaces. 
Jim  had  never  before  seen  massed  misery;  he  had  never 
before  seen  profligate  luxury,  and  the  shock  of  contrast 
brought  to  him  the  sudden,  overwhelming  thought:  "These 
people  don't  want  preaching,  they  want  fair  play.  This  is 
not  a  religious  question,  it  is  an  economic  question."  And 
in  a  flash:  "The  religious  questions  are  economic  ques 
tions,"  and  all  the  seemingly  wild  utterances  of  old  Jack 
Shives  came  back,  like  a  sudden  overwhelming  flood  at  the 


344    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

breaking  of  a  dam.  In  an  instant  he  was  staggering  among 
the  ruins  of  all  in  religious  thought  that  he  had  held  holy. 

When  he  reached  their  apartment  that  evening  he  was  in 
a  distraught  condition.  For  some  time  he  paced  up  and 
down.  At  last  he  said:  "I  must  go  out,  Belle.  I  must 
walk  alone."  He  spoke  with  intense  emotion.  He  longed 
for  his  mountain;  there  was  but  one  thing  like  it  near — the 
mighty,  moving  lake.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  strode  away. 
Belle  wanted  to  go  with  him,  but  he  had  not  asked  her;  her 
instinct  also  said  "no";  besides,  there  was  the  physical  im 
possibility  of  walking  with  him  when  he  went  so  striding. 
She  sat  down  in  the  dusk  to  wonder — to  wait. 

He  went  to  the  lake  shore.  A  heavy  gale  was  blowing 
from  the  north  and  the  lake  was  a  wild  waste.  It  touched 
him  as  the  sage  plains  did;  and  the  rough  wind  helped  him 
by  driving  away  all  other  folk  afoot.  Northward  he  went, 
feeling,  but  seeing  nothing,  of  the  rolling  waters.  Jack 
Shives  with  his  caustic  words  came  back  to  mind:  "It's 
their  'fore-God  duty  to  steal  if  their  babies  are  hungry  and 
they  can't  feed  them  any  other  way."  Jim  had  never  seen 
these  things  before;  now  they  were  the  whole  world;  he  had 
seen  nothing  else  these  slumming  days.  His  spiritual  fer 
ment  was  such  that,  one  by  one,  all  the  texts  he  had  read 
came  back  as  commentaries  on  this  new  world  of  terror. 
He  recalled  the  words  of  the  Master:  "Your  Heavenly 
Father  knoweth  ye  have  need  of  these  things";  the  fearful 
doom  of  those  that  "offend  these  little  ones";  the  strict 
injunction  to  divide  with  the  needy  and  care  for  the  help 
less;  and  again,  the  words,  "The  Kingdom  of  heaven  is 
within  you" — not  in  a  vague,  unplaced  world  after  death, 


THESE  LITTLE  ONES  345 

but  here,  now — and  those  who  thought  that,  by  placating 
the  custodians  of  costly  edifices,  they  were  laying  up  "treas 
ure  in  heaven"  were  blindly  going  to  destruction. 

He  strode  in  the  night  with  his  brain  awhirl.  The  old 
texts  held  for  him  some  new  power:  "Seek  ye  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness,  and  all  these  things 
shall  be  added  into  you";  and  again,  "The  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  within  you";  "Sell  all  that  thou  hast  and  give  to 
the  poor."  In  vain  he  sought  for  inspired  words  that 
would  reestablish  the  happy  land  beyond  the  grave  that  his 
teachers  had  ever  pictured  in  set  phrase.  Yet  every  word 
of  the  Master  pointed  the  other  way.  "Here";  "now"; 
and  "first  within"  was  the  kingdom.  And  the  hollowness 
of  all  the  rich  man's  preachment — that  the  poor  must 
suffer  patiently  in  hope  of  a  reward  beyond  the  grave — 
was  more  and  more  a  hideous  stratagem  as  in  his  mind 
arose  together  two  portrait  types:  the  pinched,  sullen, 
suffering  face  of  the  slums  and  the  bloated,  evil  face  to  be 
found  on  the  boulevard. 

The  mockery  of  it  horrified  as  the  immensity  of  it 
all  swamped  him.  He  had  no  mind,  no  equipment, 
for  the  subtleties  of  theology,  and  his  head  was  a 
whirl  of  maddening  contradictions,  till  the  memory  of 
his  mother's  simple  devotion  came  like  a  cooling  drink 
in  his  fever:  "Never  mind  trying  to  reason  it  all  out; 
you  can't  do  it;  no  one  can.  Only  ask  what  would  the 
Master  have  done?"  Yes,  that  was  easy.  "Feed  the 
hungry,  clothe  the  naked,  visit  the  sick";  and  turning,  he 
wheeled  homeward.  The  upheaval  of  all  foundations 
seemed  less  dreadful.  He  could  not  expect  to  reason  it  all 


346    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

out.  It  was  enough  to  do  as  the  Master  would  have  done; 
and,  whether  it  was  the  feeding  of  the  multitude,  the  heal 
ing  of  the  lepers,  the  gentleness  to  the  woman  taken  in 
adultery,  or  the  helping  of  the  man  who  fell  among  thieves, 
there  was  no  doctrine,  no  preaching — only  kindness  shown 
as  sympathy  and  physical  help  in  their  troubles,  here  and 
now.  The  words  of  another  childhood  friend  came  back 
to  him — those  of  Fighting  Bill  Kenna.  He  used  to  say,  "I 
don't  care  a  dom  what  he  is,  if  he's  a  good  neighbour." 
Yet  the  neighbour  in  question  was  a  papist  and  they  were 
kind  and  friendly  every  day  of  the  year,  except  on  those 
two  set  apart  by  the  devil  to  breed  hate.  Kenna  was 
right  where  his  heart  led  him  and  wrong  where  his  creed 
was  guide. 

Hartigan  could  not  have  told  why  he  went  alone  on  that 
walk.  He  only  knew  that  in  this  crisis  something  cried  out 
in  him  to  be  alone  with  the  simple  big  things.  Why  should 
the  worldly-wise  companion  he  had  chosen  be  left  out  ?  He 
didn't  know;  he  only  felt  that  he  wanted  no  worldly  wis 
dom  now.  He  wished  to  face  the  judgment  day  in  his  soul 
all  alone.  He  would  not  have  done  so  a  year  before;  but 
the  Angel  of  Destiny  had  led  on  an  upward  trail  and  now  he 
was  brought  aside  to  the  edge  so  that  he  might  look  over, 
and  down,  and  know  that  he  was  climbing. 


Belle  met  him  at  the  door.  Her  face  was  anxious.  But 
his  look  reassured  her.  He  took  her  on  his  knees  as  one 
might  lift  a  child  and,  sitting  with  his  arm  around  her  and 
gazing  far  away,  he  said:  "I  had  a  landslide,  Belle.  All 


THESE  LITTLE  ONES  347 

my  church  thought  and  training  were  swept  away  in  a 
moment.  I  was  floundering,  overwhelmed  in  the  ruin, 
when  I  found  a  big,  solid,  immovable  rock  on  which  I  could 
build  again.  It  was  not  the  Church,  it  was  my  mother 
gave  it  to  me.  She  used  to  say:  'Don't  try  to  reason  it  all 
out;  no  one  can.  Only  try  to  do  as  the  Master  would  do'; 
what  that  is  we  are  not  always  sure;  but  one  who  followed 
Him  has  told  us,  *  Keep  cool  and  kind  and  you  won't  go  far 
astray/" 

She  looked  into  his  face  and  saw  something  that  she  had 
never  seen  there  before.  The  thought  that  flashed  through 
her  mind  was  of  Moses  and  how  his  countenance  showed 
that  a  little  while  before  he  had  talked  with  God.  She  was 
awed  by  this  new  something  he  had  taken  on;  and  her 
instinct  hushed  the  query  that  arose  within  her.  She  only 
gripped  his  hand  a  little  and  looking  far  away,  said  slowly: 
"There  are  times  when  He  comes  to  talk  with  His  own.  I 
think  he  wanted  to  walk  with  you  alone  by  the  lake  and 
talk,  as  He  one  time  walked  with  His  men  on  the  shore 
of  Galilee." 

"My  mind  is  clear  now,  Belle,"  he  continued,  "if  these 
people  want  me  to  begin  here  merely  as  orthodox  pulpit 
preacher,  I  must  give  up  the  post.  That  is  what  I  want  to 
be,  but  this  is  not  the  time  or  place  for  it.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  will  let  me  try  to  help  those  who  need  help,  and 
in  the  form  in  which  they  need  it — well  and  good;  I  will  do 
my  best  to  understand  and  meet  the  problems.  But  we 
must  at  once  have  a  clear  understanding." 

She  put  her  arms  about  him  and  after  a  little  silence  said : 
"I  am  with  you  to  the  finish,  Jim.  I  know  you  have  re- 


348    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

ceived  a  message  and  have  guidance  as  to  how  it  should 
be  delivered." 

It  was  in  the  little  flat,  with  sagebrush  in  the  vases,  that 
they  thought  it  out,  and  reached  a  solution  that  was  the 
middle  of  the  road.  The  first  presentation  of  his  new  un 
derstanding  Jim  made  to  the  Board  of  Deacons  two  days 
later.  He  said: 

"When  a  man  is  swimming  for  his  life,  he  does  not  want 
to  discuss  politics.  When  a  man's  children  are  hungry,  he 
can't  be  expected  to  respect  the  law  that  prevents  him  from 
feeding  them.  When  a  man  has  no  property,  you  needn't 
look  to  him  for  a  fine  understanding  of  the  laws  of  property. 
When  a  man  has  no  chance  for  lawful  pleasures  in  life,  he 
cannot  be  blamed  much  for  taking  any  kind  that  comes 
within  reach.  When  a  man's  body  is  starved,  cold,  and 
tormented,  he  is  not  going  to  bother  about  creeds  that  are 
supposed  to  guide  his  soul." 

"All  of  which  we  freely  admit,"  said  Mr.  Hopkins,  with 
characteristic  gravity.  "The  problems  that  you  name  are 
very  real  and  grave,  but  they  are  the  problems  of  the  na 
tion.  Rest  assured  that  every  man  of  force  in  America  to 
day  is  aware  of  these  things,  and  is  doing  all  he  can  to  meet 
them  squarely.  Moreover,  they  are  being  met  with  suc 
cess — slow,  but  continued  success. 

"Are  you  prepared  to  outline  the  plan  by  which  you 
would  contribute  to  the  local  solution  of  these  national 
problems?" 

Yes,  Hartigan  had  it  there  on  paper.  "I  must  ap 
proach  these  people  through  the  things  which  they  know 
they  need.  They  don't  feel  any  need  of  a  church,  but  they 


THESE  LITTLE  ONES  349 

do  feel  the  need  of  a  comfortable  meeting  place  where  the 
wholesome  love  of  human  society  may  be  gratified.  Their 
lives  are  devoid  of  pleasure,  except  of  the  worst  kinds. 
This  is  not  choice,  but  is  forced  on  them;  there  is  not  a 
man,  woman  or  child  among  them  that  does  not — some 
times,  at  least — hunger  for  better  things — that  would  not 
enjoy  the  things  that  you  enjoy,  if  they  had  the  chance.  I 
want  harmless  pleasures  in  abundance  put  within  their 
reach. 

"Man  is  an  animal  before  he  is  a  soul;  so  I  would  begin 
by  providing  the  things  needful  for  a  body.  All  men  glory 
in  physical  prowess;  therefore  I  want  a  gymnasium,  and 
with  it,  the  natural  accompaniments  of  bath  house  and 
swimming  tank.  In  short,  I  don't  want  a  church;  I  want 
an  up-to-date  People's  Club,  with  a  place  for  all  and  a  wel 
come  for  all." 

The  deacons  sat  back  and  gazed  at  one  another. 
"Well,"  said  Deacon  Starbuck,  president  of  the  Stock 
Bank,  "you  surely  have  a  clear-thinking  business  head 
among  your  gifts." 

There  was  a  distinct  split  in  the  views  of  the  Board.  The 
older  men  objected  that  this  was  an  organization  for  propa 
gating  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  not  for  solving  economic 
problems,  and  proved  with  many  Scripture  texts  that  we 
must  "first  of  all  seek  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  His 
righteousness,"  after  having  secured  which,  the  rest  would 
follow. 

But  the  younger  men  took  Hartigan's  view  that  it  was 
no  time  to  talk  politics  to  a  man  when  he  was  swimming 
for  his  life.  Fortunately,  Hopkins  was  able  to  stave  off 


350    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

action,  pending  a  fuller  discussion,  and  brought  that  on  at 
once. 

"Let  us  understand.  Is  the  club  to  be  a  charity,  a  ben 
evolence,  or  a  business  proposition — that  is,  a  free  gift,  a 
partly  supported  institution,  or  a  dollar-for-dollar  bar 
gain?" 

The  older  men  believed  in  charity.  Jim  opposed  it  as 
•wrong  in  principle.  As  a  business  proposition  it  was  hope 
less,  at  present;  so  he  definitely  labelled  it  a  "benevolence." 

"All  right,"  said  Hopkins,  "now  how  much  money  do 
you  want,  and  how  long  to  make  good?" 

Again  Jim  referred  to  the  paper  in  his  hand. 

"I  want  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  cash  to  provide 
and  equip  a  temporary  building;  I  want  five  thousand  a 
year  to  run  it,  and  I  want  one  thousand  dollars  a  year 
salary  paid  to  my  wife,  who  is  with  me  in  all  things,  and 
will  give  all  her  time  to  it.  I  want  three  years  to  make 
good,  that  is  to  make  a  noticeable  reduction  in  drink  and 
crime,  which  is  the  same  thing,  and  this  we  shall  guage  by 
the  police  records.  By  that  time  I  shall  have  fifteen  hun 
dred  families  in  touch  with  the  club,  paying  dues  to  it.  I 
shall  stand  or  fall  by  the  result.  If  I  satisfy  you,  I  shall  ask 
for  a  hundred-thousand-dollar  building  at  the  end  of  that 
time." 

"You  say  nothing  about  street  sermons,"  said  a  plain 
tive  old  gentleman  with  a  long  white  beard  and  the  liquid 
eyes  of  an  exhorter. 

"No,  not  one.  I  don't  want  them.  I  can  work  better 
indoors." 

The    president    said,   "Well,    Mr.    Hartigan,   perhaps 


THESE  LITTLE  ONES  351 

it  would  be  well  for  you  to  retire,  in  order  that  we  may 
freely  discuss  your  plan.  As  you  seem  to  have  it  on 
paper,  would  you  mind  leaving  the  document?"  Jim 
hesitated,  glanced  at  it,  then  handed  it  to  Mr.  Hopkins. 
It  was  all  in  a  woman's  hand. 

In  fifteen  minutes,  Jim  was  summoned  to  learn  the  de 
cision.  They  accepted,  not  unanimously,  but  they 
accepted  his  entire  proposition,  with  the  exception  of  one 
item;  they  would  not  pay  salary  to  or  officially  recognize 
his  wife.  It  was  a  bitter  pill,  and  Jim's  eyes  were  brim 
ming  with  tears  and  his  face  flushed  at  the  injustice  when 
he  went  home  to  tell  her.  Poor  little  woman!  Her  lips 
tightened  a  trifle,  but  she  said :  "Never  mind,  I'll  work  for 
it  just  the  same.  I'm  afraid  they  are  still  in  the  Dark 
Ages;  but  the  light  will  come." 


CHAPTER  LII 
THE   Boss 

IT  HAD   been   a  private  dwelling,    far  out  on  the 
prairie  once,  but  the  hot,  steady  lava  flow  of  the 
great  city  had  reached  and  split  and  swept  around 
the  little  elevated  patch  of  grimy  green  with  its  eleven 
despairing  trees.     A  wooden  house  it  was,  and  in  the  very 
nature  of  it  a  temporary  shift;  but  the  committee — Hop 
kins,  Hartigan,  and  Belle — felt  it  worth  looking  into. 

With  the  agent,  these  three  went  over  it  and  discussed 
its  possibilities  and  the  cost.  Ten  times  in  that  brief  talk 
did  Hopkins  find  himself  consulting  Belle  when,  in  the 
ordinary  process,  he  should  have  consulted  Hartigan. 
Why?  No  man  raises  himself  to  the  power  and  pitch 
that  Hopkins  had  attained,  without  a  keen,  discriminating 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  And  he  felt  the  fact  long 
before  he  admitted  it  even  to  himself:  "Yes,  he's  a  pair  of 
giant  wings,  but  she's  the  tail,  all  right."  And  he  was  not 
displeased  to  find  this  original  estimate  justified  by  events. 
The  three  years'  lease  was  signed;  and  a  bulletin  board 
appeared  on  the  bravest  of  all  the  battered  old  trees  at 
the  front — the  very  battle  front.  A  gnarled  and  twisted 
cedar  it  was,  and  when  a  richer  name  than  "Club"  was 
sought  for  the  venture,  it  was  this  old  tree  that  linked  up 
memory  with  itself  and  the  house  was  named,  not  "The 

352 


THE  BOSS  353 

People's  Club,"  as  at  first  intended,  but  "Cedar  Mountain 
House" — the  word  "mountain"  being  justified  in  che  fact 
that  the  house  was  on  a  prairie  knoll  at  least  a  foot  above 
the  surrounding  level. 

The  bulletin  board  displayed  this  to  all  passers-by: 


CEDAR  MOUNTAIN  HOUSE 

NOTICE 

A  Meeting  to  organize  this  Club  will  be  held  here 
on  these  premises  Sunday  afternoon  next.  Men  and 
women  who  are  interested  are  cordially  invited. 

REFRESHMENTS 


The  Board  of  Deacons  would  have  had  a  wrangle  over 
each  and  every  word  of  that  notice.  That  was  why  they 
never  saw  it  till  long  afterward. 

"Now  what's  going  to  happen?"  said  Hopkins. 

"A  few  will  come  and  act  very  shyly;  but  I've  a  notion 
the  refreshments  will  bring  them,"  was  Belle's  guess. 

"I  am  afraid  we  have  omitted  something  of  import 
ance,"  said  Jim.  "We  are  invading  a  foreign  savage 
country  without  taking  any  count  of  the  native  chiefs." 

"What's  your  idea?"  said  Hopkins,  sharply. 

"I  mean,  we  have  arranged  matters  with  the  real  estate 
man,  and  the  Church  workers  and  the  police;  but  we 
haven't  taken  the  trouble  to  look  up  the  ward  boss." 


354    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

"We  ignored  the  boss  because  we  thought  he  was  an 
enemy,"  sa\d  Hopkins. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  that,"  said  Jim.  "I've  been 
talking  with  the  police  sergeant,  who  knows  him  well.  He 
says  he's  a  queer  mixture  of  prizefighter  and  politician. 
He  can  protect  anything  he  likes,  and  pretty  nearly  drive 
out  anything  he  doesn't  like.  Isn't  it  worth  while  making 
a  bid  for  his  support?  It  may  please  him  to  be  asked." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Oh,  a  saloon-keeper,  Irish,  ex-pugilist.  His  name  is 
Michael  Shay.  He's  easy  to  find,"  said  Jim. 

"Let's  go  now,"  said  Hopkins.  "But  I'm  afraid  that 
this  is  where  you  drop  out,  Mrs.  Hartigan." 

So  they  went  down  to  the  headquarters  of  the  boss.  It 
was  an  ordinary  Chicago  saloon  of  less  than  ordinary  pre 
tensions.  The  plate-glass  and  polished-mahogany  era  had 
not  yet  set  in.  The  barkeeper  was  packing  the  ice  chest 
and  a  couple  of  "types  "  were  getting  their  "  reg'lar  "  as  the 
two  strangers  from  another  world  entered.  The  build  of 
Hartigan  at  once  suggested  plain-clothes  policeman,  and 
the  barkeeper  eyed  him  suspiciously.  Hopkins  spoke 
first: 

"Is  the  boss  in?" 

The  barkeeper  made  a  gesture,  pointing  to  the  back 
room. 

"May  we  see  him?" 

"I  s'pose  so."  And  again,  with  a  jerk  of  the  thumb,  the 
back  room  was  indicated. 

The  two  walked  in.  It  was  a  small  room,  meanly  fur 
nished,  with  a  square  table  in  the  centre.  Sitting  by  it 


THE  BOSS  355 

were  three  men.  Two  were  drinking  beer — one  a  small, 
thin  man;  the  other  a  red-faced  specimen  with  rotund 
outline.  The  third  and  biggest  was  smoking  a  briarwood 
pipe.  He  was  a  heavily  built  man  with  immense  shoulders 
square  jaw,  and  low,  wrinkled  forehead;  deep  under  his 
bushy  eyebrows  were  two  close-set,  twinkling  gray  eyes, 
which  were  turned  on  the  visitors  with  a  hostile  stare. 

"Is  Mr.  Michael  Shay  here?"  asked  Hopkins. 

"I'm  Mike  Shay,"  said  the  smoker,  without  rising  or  re 
moving  his  pipe;  "what  do  ye  want?"  There  was  a 
sullen  defiance  in  the  tone  that  showed  resentment  at  the 
different  dress  and  manner  of  the  strangers. 

"We  have  come  to  ask  for  your  support  for  the  club  we 
are  going  to  open  in  the  old  house  down  the  street." 

"Support  nuthin',"  was  the  gracious  reply. 

Hopkins  began  to  explain  that  this  was  not  to  be  a 
rival  show — no  drinks  would  be  sold;  the  idea  was  merely 
to  found  a  place  of  amusement  for  the  people.  The  only 
effect  on  the  boss  was  to  evoke  a  contemptuous  "E-r-r-r!" 
and  an  injunction,  in  Chicago  vernacular,  to  get  out  of 
that  as  soon  as  they  liked — or  sooner.  And,  by  way  of 
punctuation,  he  turned  to  expectorate  copiously,  but  with 
imperfect  precision  at  a  box  of  sawdust  which  was  littered 
with  cigar  stumps.  The  interview  was  over — he  wished 
them  to  understand  that.  He  turned  to  his  companions. 

Hartigan  felt  that  it  was  his  chance  now.  He  began: 
"See  here,  now,  Michael  Shay;  you're  an  Irishman  and 
I'm  an  Irishman " 

"Oh,  g'wan!"  and  Shay  rose  to  walk  out  the  back  way. 
As  he  did  so,  Jim  noticed  fully,  for  the  first  time,  the  huge 


356    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

shoulders,  the  strong,  bowed  legs,  the  gorilla-like  arms; 
and  the  changing  memory  of  another  day  grew  clear  and 
definitely  placed.  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  it  now; 
this  was  bow-legged  Mike,  the  teamster  of  seven  years  be 
fore. 

At  once,  a  different  colour  was  given  to  Jim's  thought 
and  manner;  no  longer  cautious,  respectful,  doubtful,  he 
began  in  his  own  more  boisterous  way,  "Say,  Mike.  I 
have  a  different  matter  to  talk  about  now." 

Mike  stopped  and  stared. 

Jim  proceeded.     "Were  you  ever  at  Links,  Ontario?" 

"Maybe  I  was,  an'  maybe  I  wasn't.  What's  that  to 
you?" 

"Well,  do  you  remember  licking  a  young  fellow  there  for 
jerking  the  roof  log  out  of  the  hotel  with  your  masting 
team  of  oxen?" 

"Bejabers,  I  do  that";  and  Mike's  eyes  twinkled  for  the 
first  time  with  a  pleasant  look. 

"Well,  Mike,  I  am  that  fellow;  an'  that's  what  ye  gave 
me."  Jim  raised  his  chin  and  showed  an  irregular 
scar. 

"Well  sure,  that's  the  Gospel  truth";  and  Michael 
grinned.  "By  gosh,  that's  the  time  I  had  to  skip  out  of 
Chicago.  A  little  election  fuss  ye  understand,"  and  he 
chuckled.  "Set  down.  What'll  ye  drink?"  and  the  huge 
hand  swung  two  chairs  within  reach. 

"No,"  said  Jim.  "I'm  not  drinking  to-day;  but  I  want 
to  tell  you  that  I  was  only  a  kid  when  you  licked  me.  I 
swore  that  some  day  I'd  meet  you  and  have  another  try. 
Well,  I've  filled  out  some  in  the  last  seven  years,  an'  some 


THE  BOSS  357 

day,  when  ye  feel  like  it,  we  might  put  on  the  gloves  to 
gether." 

Mike  chuckled,  "Now  you're  talking!  What's  the 
matter  with  right  now?"  and  he  pointed  to  a  room  farther 
back.  "But,  say,  ye  ain't  in  training,  are  ye?" 

"No;  are  you?" 

"No." 

"Then  come  on." 

Mike  opened  the  next  door  and  led  the  way  into  a  larger 
room,  with  the  fixings  of  a  regular  boxing  academy,  fol 
lowed  by  his  friends  and  one  or  two  additional  customers 
from  the  bar  room. 

Hopkins  followed  Hartigan,  and  was  filled,  appar 
ently,  with  strange  and  mixed  emotions.  "Really,  Mr. 
Hartigan,  as  President  of  the  Board  of  Deacons,  I  must 
protest  against  this  whole  shocking  procedure."  Then,  in 
a  different  tone:  "But,  as  a  man,  by  jinks!  I'm  going  to 
see  it  through." 

"Why  not?"  said  Jim.  "Sure  it's  simple  and  easy.  In 
about  three  rounds,  I'll  get  him  or  he'll  get  me;  then  we'll 
shake  hands  and  all  be  good  friends  ever  after.  It 
couldn't  have  happened  better." 

Both  men  stripped  to  the  waist,  and  the  contrast  was  as 
great  as  the  resemblance.  Broad,  equally  broad,  and 
superbly  muscled,  the  saloon-keeper  was,  if  anything, 
heavier,  but  there  was  just  a  suspicion  of  bloat  over  all  his 
frame.  Jim  was  clean  built,  statuesque — a  Jason  rather 
than  a  Hermes.  He  was  by  six  inches  taller,  but  the 
other  had  just  as  long  a  reach.  And,  as  the  officious 
patrons  of  the  "pub"  strapped  on  the  gloves  and  made  the 


358    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

usual  preparation  of  wet  sponge  and  towel,  it  seemed  in  all 
respects  an  even  match — in  all  respects  but  one;  Jim  was 
twenty-odd,  Mike  was  forty-odd. 

The  small  man  with  a  squeaky  voice  installed  himself  as 
timekeeper.  He  struck  the  gong,  and  the  boxers  met. 
Jim  always  smiled  and  bared  his  teeth  while  boxing. 
Mike  was  one  of  the  bull-dog  jaw;  he  kept  his  lips  tight 
shut,  and  his  small  eyes  twinkled  with  every  appearance  of 
rage. 

On  the  first  round,  the  great  experience  of  the  pugilist 
enabled  him  to  land  one  or  two  heavy  jolts,  and  when  the 
gong  sounded  the  time-limit,  Jim  had  got  rather  the  worst 
of  it. 

The  second  round  opened  much  like  the  first.  Jim 
landed  on  Mike's  under  jaw  more  than  once;  and  Mike  got 
in  a  body  blow  that  was  something  to  think  about. 

It  was  the  third  round  that  told  the  tale.  What  chance 
in  a  fight  has  forty-five  against  twenty-five?  The  extra 
weight  of  the  prize  fighter  was  mere  softness.  His  wind 
was  gone;  and  half  the  time  had  not  passed  before  Jim 
landed  under  his  left  jaw  the  classic  punch  that  Mike  had 
one  time  given  him,  and  Mike  went  down  like  a  sack  of 
meal. 

In  five  minutes,  he  was  up  and  game,  but  the  bout  was 
over.  The  men  shook  hands,  and  Michael,  rapidly  re 
covering  his  spirits,  rumbled  out  of  his  deep  chest:  "Be 
jabers,  it's  the  first  time  in  five  years  I've  been  knocked 
out — and  it  was  done  scientific.  Say,  Hartigan,  ye  can 
put  me  down  for  a  member  of  your  club;  or  yer  church  or 
whatever  the  dom  thing  is  an'  I'll  see  ye  get  whatever  ye 


THE  BOSS  359 

need  in  the  way  of  protection;  an'  if  ye  want  to  sell  any 
liquor  on  the  sly,  that'll  be  all  right.  You  count  on 
Mike." 

Then,  with  a  singular  clearing  of  hate  and  an  access  of 
good  feeling — psychological  reactions  which  so  often  fol 
low  in  the  wake  of  a  finish  fight — the  men  all  shook  hands 
and  parted  in  excellent  humour. 

"By  George!"  said  President  Hopkins  of  the  Board  of 
Deacons,  "I  wouldn't  have  missed  that  for  a  thousand  dol 
lars.  It  was  perfectly  bully — just  what  we  wanted!  I've 
heard  of  things  like  this,  but  never  really  believed  they 
happened.  It's  a  new  side  of  human  nature  for  me.  I 
wouldn't  have  missed  it  for — no,  not  for  five  thousand 
dollars." 


CHAPTER  LIII 
THE    FIRST   MEETING 

THE  notice  on  the  old  tree  had  been  up  a  week.  By 
Thursday  there  had  been  no  sign  of  response;  on 
Friday  Jim  had  had  it  out  with  the  boss;  and 
Saturday  morning  the  community  seemed,  in  some  subtle 
way,  to  be  greatly  stirred  by  the  coming  event.  Sunday 
afternoon  there  was  a  fairly  good  assemblage  of  men  and 
women  in  the  large  room  of  the  rearranged  old  house. 
Bow-legged  Mike  was  not  present;  but  the  little  man  with 
the  squeaky  voice — commonly  known  as  "Squeaks" — 
was  there  to  represent  him,  as  he  did  in  divers  ways  and  on 
different  occasions  in  the  ward. 

Hartigan  and  Hopkins  were  on  the  platform.  Belle  sat 
at  a  small  table  to  act  as  recording  secretary.  Hopkins 
opened  the  meeting  by  introducing  Hartigan,  who  spoke  as 
follows: 

"My  friends;  we  are  assembled  to  discuss  the  formation 
of  a  club  to  provide  for  the  residents  of  this  district  such 
things  as  they  need  in  the  way  of  a  convenient  social  meet 
ing  place  and  whatever  else  is  desirable  in  a  club.  We 
have  not  fully  worked  out  our  plan,  but  this  is  the  main 
idea:  the  club  will  be  called  Cedar  Mountain  House;  it 
will  be  managed  by  five  governors — two  of  them  appointed 
by  the  men  who  own  the  building  lease;  two  of  them  elected 

360 


THE  FIRST  MEETING  361 

by  the  people  who  join;  these  four  to  elect  a  fifth  as  chair 
man  of  the  board. 

"The  club  is  open  to  men  and  women  twenty-one  years 
of  age;  their  families  come  in  free  on  their  tickets.  The 
dues  are  to  be  ten  cents  a  week,  or  five  dollars  a  year. 
This  covers  the  gymnasium,  the  lecture  hall,  the  library, 
and  the  baths.  Now  we  are  ready  for  any  questions." 

A  very  fat  woman,  with  a  well-developed  moustache, 
rose  to  claim  the  floor,  and  began:  "I  want  to  know- 
Hopkins  interrupted:    "As  the  Chair  is  not  acquainted 
with  all  present,  will  the  speakers  kindly  announce  their 
names?" 

The  woman  made  a  gesture  of  impatience — evidently 
every  one  should  know  her  name:  "I  am  Dr.  Mary  Mudd, 
M.D.,  of  Rush  College,  unmarried,  Resident  Physician  of 
the  Mudd  Maternity  Home  and  the  winner  of  the  Mudd 
medal  for  an  essay  on  misapplied  medicine.  There!  Now 
I  want  to  know  are  women  eligible  for  office  in  this  club?" 

To  which  Hopkins  replied:  "Since  women  are  admitted 
to  membership  and  pay  dues,  they  are  eligible  for  all 
offices." 

"Well,  now,  I'm  with  you,"  said  Dr.  Mudd;  and  she  sat 
down. 

Now  arose  a  thin,  dark  man  with  a  wild  shock  of  hair,  a 
black  beard,  a  red  tie  and  a  general  appearance  of  having 
-ski  at  the  end  of  his  name.  "I  vant  to  know  do  you  hev 
to  be  religious  your  vay  in  dis  cloob?" 

"Kindly  give  your  name,"  said  the  Chair. 

"Veil,  I'm  Isaac  Skystein;  I'm  a  renovator  of  chentle- 
men's  deteriorated  vearing  apparel,  and  I  vant  to  know  of 


362    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

dis  is  a  missionary  trick,  or  do  it  be  a,cloob  vere  von  can 
talk  de  freedom  of  speech?" 

"You  do  not  have  to  belong  to  any  Church,"  announced 
the  Chairman. 

"Veil;  is  it  to  be  de  religious  talk?" 

"Once  a  week,  or  maybe  once  a  month,  there  will  be  a 
debate  in  this  hall,  at  which  entire  freedom  of  speech  will 
be  allowed." 

"Dat  mean  I  can  get  up  an'  say  I  doan  take  no  stock  in 
your  dern  religion?  I  vant  de  freedom  of  de  speeches, 
Ya!" 

"It  means  that,  at  the  proper  time,  each  will  have  a 
chance  to  get  up  and  say  exactly  what  he  thinks  within  the 
decencies  of  debate." 

"Veil,  I  tink  I'll  join  for  a  vhile,  anyvay." 

Then  a  red-faced  man  introduced  himself.  "I'm  Jack 
Hinks,  teamster,  and  I  want  to  know  if  any  drinks  will  be 
sold  on  the  premises." 

"No,  sir;  nothing  intoxicating." 

"I  mean  on  the  sly." 

"No,  sir:   nothing,  absolutely  nothing." 

"Well,  Mike  Shay  tipped  me  off  that  it  was  to  be  'wet' 
on  the  quiet." 

"He  made  a  mistake;  this  is  to  be  a  strictly  teetotal 
club." 

"That  settles  it.  What's  the  good  of  a  club  where  you 
can't  have  no  fun?  Good  night!"  and  out  he  went. 

A  lanky  youth  with  unhealthy  rings  around  his  eyes  and 
brown  stains  on  his  thumb  asked  if  there  were  to  be  boxing 
lessons  and  would  Mr.  Hartigan  tell  them  about  the  scrap 


THE  FIRST  MEETING  363 

between  himself  and  Mike  Shay.  Mothers  asked  if  a 
baby  corral  would  be  instituted,  to  set  the  mothers  free  for 
a  few  hours  each  day.  A  tall,  pale  young  man  with  a 
Southern  coo,  asked  "whether  Negroes  were  to  be  ad 
mitted."  The  Chair  dodged  by  saying:  "That  will  be 
decided  by  the  vote  of  the  majority." 

A  male  person,  with  a  beard  and  a  tremulous  voice, 
asked  what  the  club's  attitude  would  be  toward  the  Sal 
vation  Army.  Before  the  Chair  could  reply,  little  Sky- 
stein  jumped  up  and  shouted:  "Mr.  Chairman,  ve  don't 
vant  'em;  dey's  all  feelin's  an'  no  brains.  You  don't  see  no 
Chews  in  de  Salvation  Army — it's  too  many  emotions;  de 
Chews  got  too  much  intellects,  ve  don't  vant— 

"I  rule  you  out  of  order!"  shouted  the  Chair.  "Sit 
down!  Now  for  your  question:  The  club  will  welcome 
the  Salvationists  as  individual  members.  It  does  not 
recognize  them  as  a  body." 

A  fat,  unsuccessful-looking  man,  asked  if  it  held  out  any 
chance  for  a  job;  and  a  red-headed  masculine  person  of 
foreign  design  rose  to  inquire  whether  the  bathing  would  be 
compulsory.  A  preliminary  vote  was  overwhelmingly  in 
favour  of  the  five-dollar  dues,  though  a  small  minority 
thought  it  should  be  free;  a  group  of  four  persons  believed 
they  should  draw  compensation  for  coming. 

The  meeting  answered  every  expectation;  it  fully  in 
troduced  the  club  and  its  leaders;  it  demonstrated  the 
views  of  the  possible  members,  and  gave  the  Board  of 
Deacons  a  new  light  on  human  nature.  All  the  business 
of  definite  organization  was  deferred  to  the  next  meeting^ 
to  take  place  one  week  later. 


CHAPTER  LIV 
THE   FORMATION   OF  THE   CLUB 

FOUNDATION  Sunday  came,  and  with  it  a  re 
spectable  crowd  at  the  House.     There  were  some 
who  had  brought  babies — which  was  unfortunate, 
but  unavoidable — and  there  were  one  or  two  men  too 
hilarious  for  good  manners;  but  the  crowd  was,  on  the 
whole,  good-natured  and  desirable. 

Mike  Shay  was  not  there,  although  Jim  had  tried  to  get 
him;  but  Mike  had  a  curious  diffidence  about  appearing  in 
public.  All  his  power  was  underground,  and  all  his 
methods  behind  the  scenes.  Squeaks  was  there  to  keep  an 
eye  on  things,  and  his  little  bleary,  ferret  eyes  watched 
each  person  and  detail  with  cunning,  if  not  with  discern 
ment. 

It  was  made  perfectly  clear  that  only  members  in  good 
standing  had  votes. 

"Veil,  vot  dot  mean,  dot  good  at  stannin'?  Don't  ve 
vote  settin'  down?"  demanded  Skystein. 

"It  means  members  whose  dues  are  fully  paid,  and  who 
are  not  under  indictment  for  serious  breach  of  rules." 

"I  want  to  pay  one  year's  dues  for  myself  and  Mr. 
Michael  Shay,"  said  Squeaks;  and  he  walked  to  the  secre 
tary  and  paid  ten  dollars.  This  indorsement  by  the  boss 
produced  immediate  results. 

364 


THE  FORMATION  OF  THE  CLUB         365 

"I'll  take  a  year's  membership,"  said  a  big,  coarse,  red- 
faced  man.  And  he  rolled  up  the  aisle  to  deposit  his  five 
dollars,  giving  his  name  as  Bud  Towler.  Jim  remembered 
him  as  the  third  person  in  the  back  room  the  day  he  met 
Michael  Shay.  He  had  not  seen  him  since. 

So  many  more  came  up  now,  mostly  to  pay  a  month's 
dues,  which  was  the  minimum,  that  Belle  was  worked  hard 
and  other  business  was  stopped. 

Then,  when  all  who  wished  to  pay  and  register  had  done 
so,  the  voice  of  Squeaks  was  heard:  "I  have  here  a  list  of 
names  that  I  want  to  propose  for  charter  membership/' 
and  he  read  off  a  list  of  twenty-five  men,  none  of  them 
present.  Bud  Towler  got  up  and  seconded  the  lot;  the 
Chair  was  asked  to  put  the  names  to  immediate  vote,  as  it 
was  a  charter  meeting;  all  were  carried,  and  Squeaks  came 
forward  and  paid  twenty-five  dollars  dues  for  the  lot  to 
cover  the  next  ten  weeks,  that  is,  to  the  end  of  a  year. 

Belle  whispered  to  Hopkins  as  Squeaks  retired.  The 
Chair  nodded,  rose  and  explained.  "In  drawing  up  our 
constitution,  we  deemed  it  best,  in  the  interests  of  demo 
cracy,  to  do  all  voting  by  ballot  and  to  exclude  all  proxies." 

"Dot's  right,  dot's  all  right!"  shouted  Skystein. 

"Mr.  Chairman,  I  protest,"  came  the  wire-like  voice  of 
Squeaks;  this  measure,  would,  naturally,  mean  the  dis- 
franchisement  of  every  man  whose  business  happened  to 
keep  him  away  at  election  time.  How  much  more  reason 
able  it  would  be  for  him  to  empower  some  trusted  friend  to 
represent  him  and  his  views,  etc.,  etc. 

On  the  matter  of  the  ballot  he  was  not  so  strong,  but  he 
did  think  "that  the  manly,  straightforward  way  was  for  a 


366  THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

voter  to  announce  his  vote  and  not  be  ashamed  of  his 
principles.  Of  course,  he  was  aware  that  there  was  much 
to  be  said  on  the  other  side,  but  he  was  in  favour  of  proxies 
and  open  voting." 

"So  am  I,"  shouted  Towler.  "We  ain't  got  no  right  to 
rob  a  man  of  his  vote  because  he  happens  to  be  a  night 
watchman/' 

"Ah,  vat's  de  matter  mit  ye?"  said  Skystein.  "Effery- 
body  knows  you  an'  Squeaks  is  in  cahoots  to  run  de  hull 
push  cart." 

There  was  a  good  chance  of  a  row;  but  Hopkins  ex 
plained  that  voting  by  mail  was  a  different  thing  from  vot 
ing  by  proxy,  and  every  member  in  good  standing  would 
get  the  chance  to  vote  by  mail  on  important  matters,  when 
he  could  not  be  present. 

No  one  could  long  have  been  in  that  meeting  without 
realizing  that  it  was  a  veritable  microcosm — a  little  world 
in  which  were  all  the  struggling,  rival  elements,  the  good 
and  evil  forces  of  the  big  world.  Not  a  problem  that  was 
tormenting  the  country  but  was  represented  in  vital 
strength  in  that  club  group.  It  was  full  of  lessons  and 
grave  responsibilities. 

They  were  now  ready  for  the  elections.  Squeaks  rose 
and  said:  "Since  the  owners  of  the  lease  are  to  nomi 
nate  two  of  the  four  governors,  it  would  clear  things  up  if 
their  nominations  were  made  first  and  the  club  elections 
afterward." 

This  at  once  confronted  Hopkins  with  a  problem.  He  had 
a  free  hand,  but  he  was  puzzled,  because  while  it  was  under 
stood  that  he  was  to  be  president  and  Hartigan  the  active 


THE  FORMATION  OF  THE  CLUB         367 

governor  on  the  spot,  they  had  not  secured  a  third  man 
who,  as  governor,  could  be  counted  on  for  a  continued 
whole-souled  support.  It  was  Dr.  Mary  Mudd  that  let 
the  daylight  into  this  problem  by  rising  to  say: 

"Mr.  Chairman,  I  understand  we  are  free  to  elect  a 
woman  to  the  board  of  governors  as  well  as  to  any  other 
office." 

Hopkins  had  not  thought  of  that,  but  the  broad  prin 
ciple  had  been  established  and  he  replied  "Yes." 

"Very  good,"  said  Dr.  Mudd,  "now  there's  a  chance  for 
common  sense  as  well  as  decency." 

In  a  flash,  Hopkins  got  the  answer  to  his  own  problem. 
Belle  Hartigan  had  steadily  been  winning  his  appreciation. 
His  admiration  for  her  clear-headedness  and  business  train 
ing  was  increased  at  each  meeting.  He  knew  now  pretty 
well  how  often  her  brain  was  behind  Jim's  actions.  In 
any  event,  the  trial  would  be  for  only  two  and  one-half 
months,  when  elections  were  to  take  place  for  the  new 
year.  He  bent  toward  her:  "Will  you  be  one  of  the  ap 
pointed  governors  for  the  rest  of  the  year?" 

"Yes." 

Hopkins  rose  and  announced  that  the  owners  of  the 
lease  appointed  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hartigan  as  the  two  gover 
nors  to  represent  them. 

This  was  warmly  applauded,  especially  by  the  women — 
led  by  Dr.  Mudd.  There  followed  some  sharp  electioneer 
ing  and  the  members  elected  Squeaks  and  Skystein  to 
represent  them.  Dr.  Mudd,  who  had  been  nominated, 
demanded  a  recount  of  the  votes,  but  the  election  was 
sustained.  The  four  governors  then  met  and  within  five 


368    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

minutes  agreed  on  Hopkins  for  president.  So  the  board 
was  formed  and  for  good  or  ill,  the  club  was  launched — in 
the  slum,  of  the  slum,  and  for  the  slum — but  with  a  long, 
strong  arm  from  the  other  world;  an  outside  thing,  but 
meant  in  kindly  help. 


BOOK  V 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 


CHAPTER  LV 
IN   THE   ABSENCE   OF   BELLE 

EVERY  citizen  of  South  Chicago  remembers  the 
work  of  the  Cedar  Mountain  House;  how  it  grew 
and  prospered,  and  how  the  old  building  became 
too  small  and  an  annex  across  the  street  was  called  for. 
How  its  greatest  strength  lay  in  the  monthly  free  discussion 
of  any  subject  approved  in  advance  by  the  governors.  How 
the  rival  parties  of  Skystein  and  Squeaks  alternately 
pulled  and  pushed  each  other  about.  How  musical  genius 
was  discovered  in  abundance  and  an  orchestra  formed  as 
well  as  a  monthly  minstrel  show.  How  pool  tables  were 
introduced  and  a  restaurant  started.  How  the  movement 
to  introduce  beer  was  defeated  by  a  small  majority.  How, 
after  due  discussion,  they  adopted  some  seemingly  hard 
policies,  such  as  the  exclusion  of  all  Negroes  and  Chinamen. 
How  Squeaks  led  an  abortive  attempt  to  disqualify  all 
Jews.  How  the  gymnasium  became  the  focal  centre  of  all 
the  boys  in  the  neighbourhood.  How  they  organized  a 
strong-arm  squad  of  a  dozen  club  members  who  acted  as 
police,  and  without  offense,  because  they  were  of  them 
selves.  At  the  end  of  the  first  six  months,  the  House  had 
more  than  justified  its  existence.  It  had  nearly  four  hun 
dred  members  and  was  doing  work  that  in  a  higher  state 
of  civilization  would  be  the  proper  care  of  the  government. 


372    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  say  who  was  the  chief. 
Belle  had  been  the  planner  and  executor  and  now  was  not 
only  a  governor,  but  secretary  and  head  of  the  women's 
department,  on  a  fair  business  basis.  But  the  growth  of 
power  in  Jim  was  obvious.  It  had  all  been  very  new  to  his 
ways  of  thinking  and,  after  all,  Links  and  Chicago  have 
little  in  common.  Belle  had  a  business  training  that  was 
essential,  and  her  quick  judgment  helped  at  every  turn  for 
it  is  a  fact  that  second-class  judgment  right  now  is  better 
than  first-class  judgment  to-morrow.  The  full  measure 
of  her  helpfulness  in  bearing  the  burdens  was  made  trans 
parently  clear  by  a  sudden  crisis  in  their  affairs.  A  tele 
gram  from  Cedar  Mountain  arrived  for  Belle. 

Mother  very  ill.     Come  at  once — FATHER. 

It  was  impossible  for  both  to  go,  so  Belle  set  ofF  alone  for 
Cedar  Mountain,  leaving  Jim  in  charge  of  the  flock  at  the 
Mountain  House.  Alone — he  didn't  think  it  possible  to 
feel  alone  in  such  a  crowd.  His  work  was  doubled  in  the 
absence  of  Belle,  although  Dr.  Mary  Mudd  gave  not  a  little 
help  in  the  mothers'  department.  It  was  a  good  thing  for 
Jim  to  find  out  just  how  much  he  owed  to  his  wife.  There 
was  a  continuous  stream  of  callers  at  the  office  with  re 
quests  or  complaints.  These  had  all  been  met  by  Belle. 
She  had  an  even  poise,  a  gentle  consideration  for  all,  and 
certain  helpful  rules  that  reduced  the  strain,  such  as  exact 
hours  for  work,  one  call  at  a  time,  and  written  complaints 
only.  Jim's  anxiety  to  placate  and  smooth  out  led  him  to 
undertake  too  much,  and  the  result  was  a  deluge  of  small 
matters  of  which  he  had  previously  known  nothing.  The 


IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF  BELLE  373 

exasperating  accumulation  of  annoyances  and  attacks,  in 
spite  of  all  his  best  and  kindest  endeavours,  invoked  a  new 
light. 

"Oh,  if  Belle  were  only  here ! "  was  his  repeated  thought. 
"I  don't  know  how  she  manages,  but  she  does.  It's 
mighty  strange  how  few  of  these  annoyances  came  up 
when  she  was  in  the  office."  He  began  to  realize  more  and 
more  her  ability.  "She  has  more  judgment,  more  tact 
than  any  of  us;  she  has  been  meeting  these  things  all  along, 
and  saving  me  from  them  by  settling  them  without  me. 
Yes,  she's  wiser  than  I  am  in  such  matters." 

So  he  wrote  her  of  his  troubles.  He  detailed  many 
cases  in  point  and  added:  "We  miss  you  awfully;  every 
one  in  the  House  complains.  I  haven't  got  your  cleverness 
and  tact.  It  seems  as  if  I  made  enemies  every  time  I  tried 
to  make  friends.  Come  back  as  soon  as  you  can."  And  if 
the  truth  must  be  told  there  was  a  little  flush  of  pleasure 
and  triumph  in  her  soul.  "Now  he  knows  what  I  have 
known  so  long."  And  who  shall  blame  her  for  gloating  a 
little  over  the  deacons  who,  in  the  beginning,  were  unwil 
ling  to  recognize  her?  But  she  had  to  send  a  discouraging 
reply.  For  the  angel  of  destiny  said :  "No,  it  is  now  time 
for  him  to  walk  alone"  and  the  telegram  ran: 

Cannot  come;  Mother  is  very  low. 

After  the  first  shock  of  disappointment  he  braced  up, 
and,  like  a  man  who  has  been  retreating  and  who  knows  in 
his  heart  that  he  never  meant  to  make  a  stand  as  long  as 
some  one  else  could  be  depended  on,  he  upbraided  himself 
and  turned  to  face  the  fight.  "There  is  a  way  of  doing  it 


374    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

all,  and  I  can  do  it."  And  in  the  resolve  to  win  he  found 
new  strength.  In  many  small,  but  puzzling  matters,  he 
got  guidance  in  the  practical  sayings  of  men  like  Lincoln 
and  Grant:  "Be  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead"; 
"Every  one  has  some  rights";  "In  case  of  doubt,  go  the 
gentle  way";  "Never  hunt  for  trouble."  These  were  sam 
ples  of  the  homely  wisdom  that  helped  him  and  proved 
that  the  old  proverbs  are  old  wisdom  in  shape  for  new  use. 

One  man  came  to  complain  that  a  member  had  been 
drunk  and  disorderly  at  a  certain  other  place  the  night  be 
fore.  A  year  ago,  Jim  would  have  said  that  it  was  a  dis 
grace  and  that  he  would  make  a  thorough  investigation, 
which  would  have  meant  assuming  a  special  guardianship 
of  each  and  every  member  all  the  time.  Wiser  now,  he 
said,  "Since  it  was  not  on  our  premises,  we  have  no  knowl 
edge  of  the  matter."  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  a  serious 
affair  when  a  member  brought  in  a  bottle  of  strong  drink 
and  treated  a  number  of  weak  friends  until  there  was  a  wild 
orgy  going  on  in  one  of  the  rooms,  in  spite  of  official  protests 
from  those  in  charge.  This  was  clearly  high  treason;  and 
repressing  a  disposition  to  gloss  it  over,  Hartigan  expelled 
the  principal  and  suspended  the  seconds  for  long  periods. 

During  a  boyish  contest  in  the  gymnasium,  a  man  some 
what  in  liquor,  shouted  out  a  string  of  oaths  at  the  young 
sters.  Jim  rebuked  him  quietly  for  using  such  language 
there,  whereupon  the  man  turned  upon  him  with  a  coarse 
insult  and,  misunderstanding  the  Preacher's  gentleness, 
struck  him  a  vicious  blow,  which  Jim  only  partly  warded 
off.  "If  you  do  that  again,  we  may  have  to  put  you  out," 
said  Jim,  inwardly  boiling  under  the  double  insult.  For- 


IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF  BELLE  375 

tunately,  the  man's  friends  interfered  now  and  got  the  fel 
low  away.  For  this  Jim  was  most  thankful.  Afterward, 
he  rejoiced  still  more  that  he  had  restrained  himself;  and 
he  knew  Belle  would  flush  with  pride  at  this  victory  over 
self,  this  proof  of  a  growing  self-control. 

Another  week  went  by  and  again  came  word  that  Belle 
could  not  return  for  perhaps  ten  days  at  the  earliest.  A 
dozen  broils  that  Jim  had  been  postponing  for  Belle  to 
arbitrate  had  now  to  be  considered.  Dr.  Mary  Mudd  was 
the  leader  of  an  indignant  party  of  women  to  complain  that 
though  the  men  were  not  more  in  numbers  than  the  women 
they  had  appropriated  sixty  out  of  the  one  hundred  coat 
hangers. 

Rippe,  the  tailor,  was  there  to  complain  that  Dr.  Mary 
Mudd  always  walked  up  the  middle  of  the  stairs,  unlaw 
fully  delaying  the  traffic,  instead  of  keeping  the  proper 
right  side.  With  his  outstretched  arms,  he  illustrated  the 
formidable  nature  of  the  barrier.  Dr.  Mudd  retorted  that 
said  Rippe  had  repeatedly  smoked  in  the  ladies'  room, 
etc.,  etc.  But  these  were  small  matters  easily  adjusted. 
Two,  much  more  serious,  came  on  him  in  one  day. 

First,  he  yielded  to  the  temptation  of  having  a  beautiful 
banner  hung  on  the  wall,  because  it  was  contributed  and 
very  decorative.  It  bore  a  legend,  "No  popery."  This 
was  much  in  line  with  his  private  views,  but  it  made  a 
great  stir  and  cost  them  a  score  of  members,  as  well  as  in 
curring  the  dislike  of  Father  O'Hara,  hitherto  friendly. 
His  second  blunder  was  to  allow  the  cook  in  the  restaurant 
to  put  scraps  of  pork  in  the  soup,  thereby  raising  a  veri 
table  storm  among  the  many  keen  debaters  of  the  kosher 


376  THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

kind,  and  causing  the  resignation  of  Skystein  from  the 
board — temporarily  at  least. 

It  would  have  been  much  to  Jim's  taste  to  have  an 
open  war  with  Father  O'Hara  and  his  flock.  His  Ulster 
blood  was  ready  for  just  such  a  row.  And  in  his  heart  he 
believed  pork  and  beans  quite  the  best  of  foods.  But  his 
opinions  were  not  law;  he  had  been  learning  many  things. 
Others  had  rights;  and  he  won  the  disaffected  back,  one  by 
one,  by  recognizing  the  justice  of  their  claims  and  by  mak 
ing  kindly  personal  calls  on  each  of  them. 

Thus  Jim  H  artigan  got  a  new  knowledge  of  his  own  endow 
ment  and  discovered  unsuspected  powers.  He  had  held  his 
peace  and  triumphed  in  a  number  of  trying  situations  that 
two  or  three  years  before  would  have  ended  in  an  unprofit 
able  brawl.  He  had  controlled  his  temper,  that  was  a  step 
forward  and  he  was  learning  to  control  those  about  him  as 
well  as  manage  an  organization.  He  had  begun  to  realize 
his  prejudices  and  to  learn  to  respect  the  beliefs  of  others 
even  when  he  thought  them  wrong.  The  memory  of 
Father  Cyprian  and  the  Sioux  boy  had  helped  him  to 
deal  kindly  and  respectfully  with  Skystein  and  Father 
O'Hara. 

Strange  to  say,  it  was  a  travelling  Hindu  who  supplied 
him  with  the  biggest,  broadest  thought  of  all.  This 
swarthy  scholar  was  deeply  imbued  with  the  New  Bud 
dhism  of  Rammohan  Roy  and,  when  asked  for  his  opinion 
of  some  Romanist  practices,  he  remarked  softly,  but  eva 
sively,  "My  religion  teaches  me  that  if  any  man  do  any 
thing  sincerely,  believing  that  thereby  he  is  worshipping 
God,  he  is  worshipping  God  and  his  action  must  be  treated 


IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF  BELLE  377 

with  respect,  so  long  as  he  is  not  infringing  the  rights  of 
others." 

Jim  took  a  long  walk  by  the  lake  that  day  and  turned 
over  and  over  that  saying  of  the  Hindu  in  the  library.  The 
thing  had  surprised  him — first,  because  of  the  perfect 
English  in  the  mouth  of  a  foreigner,  and  secondly,  because 
of  the  breadth  and  tolerance  of  the  thought.  He  won 
dered  how  he  could  ever  have  believed  himself  open- 
minded  or  fair  when  he  had  been  so  miserably  narrow  in  all 
his  ideas.  Where  was  he  headed?  All  his  early  days  he 
had  been  taught  to  waste  effort  on  scorning  the  cere 
monials  great  and  small  of  Jews,  Catholics,  yes,  of  Bap 
tists  even;  and  now  the  heathen — to  whom  he  had  once 
thought  of  going  as  a  missionary — had  come  to  Chicago 
and  shown  him  the  true  faith. 

Striding  at  top  speed,  he  passed  a  great  pile  of  lumber 
and  sawdust.  The  fresh  smell  of  the  wet  wood  brought 
back  Links — and  his  mother,  and  a  sense  of  happiness,  for 
he  had  given  up  "trying  to  reason  it  all  out."  He  was  no 
longer  sure,  as  he  once  was,  that  he  had  omniscience  for 
his  guide.  Indeed  he  was  sure  only  of  this,  that  the  kind 
est  way  is  the  only  way  that  is  safe. 

There  was  daylight  dawning  in  his  heart,  and  yet, 
across  that  dawn  there  was  a  cloud  which  grew  moment 
arily  more  black,  more  threatening.  Paradoxical  as  it 
seemed,  Jim  was  intensely  unhappy  over  the  abandon 
ment  of  the  ministerial  career.  The  enduring  force  of  his 
word  as  a  man  was  only  another  evidence  of  the  authentic 
character  of  that  deep  emotional  outburst  which  had 
pledged  him  openly  to  the  service  of  Christ.  The  work  at 


378    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

the  Cedar  Mountain  House  for  a  while  satisfied  the 
evangelical  hunger  of  his  ardent  soul.  It  was  good,  it  was 
successful,  it  was  increasing  in  scope;  but  of  its  nature  it 
could  never  be  more  than  secular;  it  was  social  work  in 
its  best  form — that  was  all.  The  work  of  which  he 
dreamed,  and  to  which  he  had  consecrated  his  life  was  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel,  and,  as  the  months  passed,  an  un 
rest — the  like  of  which  he  had  hardly  known — took 
possession  of  him.  These  last  weeks  of  Belle's  absence 
had  brought  on  one  of  his  periodic  soul-searchings  and  the 
gloom  of  it  was  as  thick  as  a  fog  when  the  mail  brought 
word  of  Belle's  return.  As  he  sat  with  her  letter  in  his 
hand  his  mind  went  back  to  the  hills  and  the  free  days  and 
he  longed  to  go  back — to  get  away  from  the  ponderous  stol 
idity  of  this  pavement  world. 

He  met  her  at  the  station  and  her  joyousness  was  as  a 
shock  to  him.  And  yet,  how  hungry  he  was  for  every  least 
word  of  that  lost  life. 

"Oh,  Jim,  it  was  glorious  to  ride  again,  to  smell  the 
leather  and  the  sagebrush.  I  just  loved  the  alkali  and  the 
very  ticks  on  the  sagebrush.  I  didn't  know  how  they 
could  stir  one's  heart." 

His  eye  glowed,  his  breath  came  fast,  his  nostrils  di 
lated  and,  as  Belle  looked,  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  simple 
words  had  struck  far  deeper  than  she  meant. 

"And  the  horses,  which  did  you  ride?"  he  queried. 
"How  is  Blazing  Star?  Are  they  going  to  race  at  Fort 
Ryan  this  year?  And  the  Bylow  boys,  and  the  Mountain ? 
Thank  God,  men  may  come  and  go,  but  Cedar  Mountain 
will  stand  forever."  He  talked  as  one  who  has  long  kept 


IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF  BELLE  379 

still — as  one  whose  thoughts  long  pent  have  dared   at 
length  to  break  forth. 

And  Belle,  as  she  listened,  saw  a  light.  "He  is  far  from 
forgetting  the  life  of  the  hills,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she 
watched  him.  "He  is  keener  than  ever.  All  this  stead 
fast  devotion  to  club  work  is  the  devotion  of  duty.  Now 
I  know  the  meaning  of  those  long  vigils,  those  walks  by  the 
lake  in  the  rain — of  his  preoccupation.  His  heart  is  in 
Cedar  Mountain."  And  she  honoured  him  all  the  more 
for  that  he  had  never  spoken  a  word  of  the  secret  longing. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

THE   DEFECTION   OF   SQUEAKS 

MICHAEL  SHAY  had  come  to  the  club  in  person 
once  or  twice,  but  did  not  desire  to  be  con 
spicuous.     It  was  clear  now  that  the  club  was 
not  to  be  the  political  weapon  at  first  suspected.     The  boss 
had  another  organization  through  which  to  hold  and  make 
felt  his  power;  but  the  fact  that  it  pleased  a  number  of  his 
voters  was  enough  to  insure  his  support. 

Squeaks,  however,  was  quite  conspicuous  and  present  on 
all  important  occasions;  it  was  generally  supposed  that  he 
was  there  in  the  interests  of  Shay,  but  that  was  not  clearly 
proven.  It  was  obvious  that  the  club  was  not  in  any 
way  lined  up  for  or  against  Shay.  It  was,  however,  be 
lieved  by  Belle  that  Squeaks  was  there  in  the  interests  of 
Squeaks  and  none  other. 

This  strange,  small  person  had  a  small,  strange  history — 
so  far  as  it  was  known.  A  lawyer,  he  had  been  disbarred 
for  disreputable  practice,  and  was  now  a  hanger-on  of  the 
boss,  a  shrewd  person,  quite  purchasable.  He  was  con 
vinced  that  he  was  destined  to  be  a  great  boss,  and  satisfied 
that  Cedar  Mountain  House  would  help  his  plans — which 
lay  in  the  direction  of  the  legislature — hence  he  sought  to 
identify  himself  with  it.  For  the  present,  also,  he  stuck  to 
Shay. 

380 


THE  DEFECTION  OF  SQUEAKS  381 

The  approved  boss  system  of  the  time  rested  on  a  regi 
ment  of  absolutely  obedient  voters,  who  voted  not  once, 
but  many  times  in  as  many  different  wards  as  needed. 
They  were  thoroughly  organized,  and  part  of  their  purpose 
was  to  terrorize  independent  voters,  or  even  "remove" 
men  who  developed  power  or  courage  enough  to  oppose 
them;  so  the  "reliable  squad"  was  important.  As  their 
ranks  contained  many  convicts  or  men  qualified  for  life 
terms,  they  were  a  dangerous  and  desperate  lot.  They  re 
sponded  at  once  and  cheerfully  to  any  duty  call,  and  one 
"  removal"  per  night  would  have  probably  been  less  than  av 
erage  for  a  boss-ruled  city  in  those  days.  For  this  they 
received  protection;  that  is,  the  police  and  the  Courts  were 
so  completely  in  the  scheme  that  it  was  sufficient,  on  the 
arrest  of  a  "reliable,"  if  the  boss  sent  word  to  the  judge  or 
State's  attorney  "to  be  keerful"  as  this  was  "one  of  our 
boys."  Promptly  a  flaw  would  be  discovered  in  the  in 
dictment  and  the  case  dropped. 

The  boss  who  derives  power  from  such  a  machine  must 
ever  look  out  for  the  appearance  of  a  rival,  hence  Shay's 
early  watchfulness  of  the  club;  but  that  gave  place  to  a 
friendly  indifference.  He  was  a  man  superior  to  his  class, 
in  some  respects;  for,  though  brutal  and  masterful  on 
occasion,  it  was  said  that  he  never  "  removed  "  a  rival.  At 
most,  he  had  applied  pressure  that  resulted  in  their  dis 
creetly  withdrawing.  And  he  cared  little  for  money. 
Most  bosses  are  after  either  money  or  power  or  both. 
Shay  loved  power.  The  revenues  he  might  have  made  out 
of  tribute  from  those  protected  were  not  well  developed, 
and  most  of  what  he  received  he  disbursed  in  generous  gifts 


382    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

to  those  in  his  ward  who  needed  help.  It  was  said  that  no 
man  ever  went  hungry  from  Mike  Shay's  door,  which  was 
perfectly  true;  and  the  reward  that  he  loved  above  all 
things  was  to  be  pointed  out  on  the  street  or  in  the  car  as 
"Mike  Shay."  To  overhear  some  one  say,  "That's 
Michael  Shay,  the  big  Boss  of  the  South  Ward,"  meant 
more  to  him  a  thousand  fold  than  any  decoration  in  the 
gift  of  the  greatest  of  Old-World  potentates. 

Hartigan  learned  that  he  could  go  to  Shay  at  any  time 
for  a  reasonable  contribution,  after  having  made  it  clear 
that  it  was  for  some  one  in  distress — not  for  a  church.  The 
only  return  Shay  ever  asked  was  that  Jim  come  sometimes 
and  put  on  the  gloves  with  him  in  a  friendly  round.  Most 
of  Shay's  legal  finesse  was  done  through  Squeaks.  That 
small,  but  active  person  was  on  the  boards  of  at  least 
twenty-five  popular  organizations,  and  it  was  understood 
that  he  was  there  to  represent  the  boss.  Extraordinary 
evidence  of  some  one's  pull  was  shown  when  one  day 
Squeaks  was  elevated  to  the  Bench.  It  was  only  as  a 
police  magistrate,  but  he  was  now  Judge  Squeaks,  with 
larger  powers  than  were  by  law  provided,  and  he  began  to 
"dig  himself  in,"  entrench  himself,  make  his  position  good 
with  other  powers,  in  anticipation  of  the  inevitable  conflict 
with  Boss  Shay.  It  became  largely  a  line-up  of  political 
parties;  Squeaks  had  made  a  deal  with  the  party  in 
power  at  Springfield,  and  gave  excellent  guarantees  of  sub 
stantial  support — both  electoral  and  financial — before  the 
keen-eyed  myrmidons  of  Shay  brought  to  the  boss  the 
news  that  Squeaks  had  turned  traitor. 

Then  the  war  was  on;  not  openly,  for  Squeaks  had  scores 


THE  DEFECTION  OF  SQUEAKS          383 

of  documents  that  would,  before  any  impartial  jury,  have 
convicted  Shay  of  manipulating  election  returns,  intimidat 
ing  voters,  and  receiving  blackmail.  It  was  important  to 
get  possession  of  these  documents  before  they  could  be 
used.  While  the  present  party  held  power  in  State  poli 
tics,  there  would  be  no  chance  for  Shay  to  escape.  There 
were  two  possibilities,  however;  one,  that  the  election  close 
at  hand  might  reverse  the  sympathies  of  those  in  power; 
the  other,  that  Squeaks  might  find  it  unwise  to  use  the 
weapon  in  his  hands. 

Now  was  the  Cedar  Mountain  House  in  peril,  for  Shay's 
support  was  essential.  At  a  word  from  him,  the  police 
might  call  the  club  a  disorderly  house,  and  order  it  shut  up. 
The  fact  that  Squeaks  was  a  governor  strengthened  the 
probability  of  drastic  action.  On  the  other  hand,  Squeaks 
as  police  magistrate,  could  restrain  the  police  for  a  time  or 
discover  flaws  in  as  many  indictments  as  were  brought  up. 
The  District  Court  could,  of  course,  issue  a  warrant  over 
the  head  of  the  police  magistrate;  but  the  Court  of  Ap 
peals  was  friendly  to  Squeaks  and  would  certainly  quash 
the  warrant;  so  that,  for  the  time  being  the  many  un 
pleasant  possibilities  simply  balanced  each  other,  and  the 
club  went  on  in  a  sort  of  sulphurous  calm  like  that  before  a 
storm. 

Then  came  an  exciting  day  at  the  club.  By  an  un 
usual  chance  both  Shay  and  Squeaks  met  there  and  the  in 
evitable  clash  came.  Angry  words  passed  and  Shay 
shouted:  "Ye  dirty  little  sneak,  I'll  fix  ye  yet!"  Squeaks, 
cool  and  sarcastic,  said:  "Why  don't  ye  do  it  now?" 
Shay  rushed  at  him  with  a  vigorous  threat,  and  would  have 


384    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

done  him  grievous  bodily  injury  but  for  the  interference  of 
Hartigan  and  others.  Shay  waited  at  the  gate  for 
Squeaks,  but  the  Judge  slipped  out  the  back  way  and  dis 
appeared. 

It  was  Bud  Towler  who  called  on  the  Judge  with  a  letter 
from  Boss  Shay,  demanding  the  return  of  certain  personal 
papers  and  authorizing  said  Bud  to  receive  them.  To 
which  Judge  Squeaks  replied:  "He  better  come  for  them 
himself.  He  knows  where  I  live.  I'll  be  home  every 
night  this  week." 

And  thither  that  night  with  two  friends  went  Shay.  It 
was  a  very  simple  lodging.  These  men  habitually  avoid 
display.  The  janitor  knew  all  too  well  who  Shay  was. 

"Is  Squeaks  at  home?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  so." 

"I'm  going  up  to  see  him,  and  if  I  lay  him  over  my  knee 
and  spank  him  till  he  squeals,  ye  needn't  worry;  it's 
nothing."  Then  up  went  Shay,  while  his  friends  stayed 
below,  one  at  the  front  of  the  house  and  the  other  in  the 
lane  that  commanded  the  back. 

The  trembling  janitor  heard  the  heavy  foot  go  up  the 
wooden  stairs;  he  heard  a  voice,  then  a  crash  as  of  a  door 
forced  open,  then  heavy  steps  and  a  pistol  shot.  A 
window  was  opened  behind  the  house,  and  something  was 
thumped  down  into  the  back  yard.  A  little  later,  the  boss 
came  hurriedly  down  the  stairs.  The  timid  janitor  and  his 
trembling  wife  saw  the  big  man  step  out  with  a  bundle 
under  his  arm.  Then  all  was  still. 

After  twenty  minutes  of  stupefaction,  they  began  to 
realize  that  they  should  go  up  to  the  Judge's  room. 


THE  DEFECTION  OF  SQUEAKS  385 

They  mounted  the  stairs  together,  carrying  a  lamp.  The 
door  had,  evidently,  been  forced.  The  room  was  in  some 
disorder;  the  drawers  of  the  desk  were  open,  and  papers 
scattered  about.  On  one  or  two  of  the  papers  was  fresh 
blood.  The  window  was  closed,  but  not  fastened;  the  end 
of  the  curtain  under  it  seemed  to  give  proof  that  it  had  re 
cently  been  opened.  On  the  sill  was  more  fresh  blood. 

There  was  no  sign  of  the  Judge. 

As  they  gazed  about  in  horror,  they  heard  a  noise  in  the 
back  yard  and  looking  out  saw,  very  dimly,  two  men  car 
rying  off  a  heavy  object,  they  lifted  it  over  the  back  fence 
and  then  followed,  to  disappear. 

Schmidt,  the  janitor,  was  terror-stricken.  Evidently, 
the  Judge  had  been  murdered  and  his  body  was  now  being 
made  away  with.  What  was  to  be  done?  If  he  inter 
fered,  the  murderers  would  wreak  their  vengeance  on  him; 
if  he  refrained,  he  would  be  blamed  for  the  murder  or  at 
least  for  complicity. 

"I  tink,  Johann,  dere's  only  one  ting,  and  dat  is  go 
straight  an'  tell  de  police,"  said  his  wife.  As  they  stood, 
they  heard  a  light  foot  on  the  stairs.  Their  hearts  stood 
still,  but  they  peered  out  to  see  a  woman  in  a  gray  cloak 
step  into  the  street,  and  they  breathed  more  freely.  Now 
they  rushed  to  the  station  house  and  told  their  tale  in  tears 
and  trembling. 

The  Police  Captain  was  scornful  and  indifferent.  Had 
there  been  but  one  witness,  he  might  have  ordered  him 
away;  but  two  witnesses,  intensely  in  earnest,  made  some 
impression.  He  sent  an  inspector  around  to  see.  That 
official  came  back  to  report  the  truth  of  the  statement 


386    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

made  by  the  Schmidts,  that  the  Judge's  room  was  empty, 
upset,  and  had  some  blood  stains;  but  he  attached  little 
importance  to  the  matter.  He  had,  however,  locked  up 
and  sealed  the  door,  pending  examination. 

Next  morning,  there  was  an  attempt  to  hush  the  matter 
up,  but  a  reporter  appeared  in  the  interests  of  a  big  paper, 
and  by  a  clever  combination  of  veiled  threats  and  promises 
of  support,  got  permission  to  see  the  room.  The  re- 
porterial  instinct  and  the  detective  instinct  are  close  kin, 
and  the  newspaper  published  some  most  promising  clues: 
The  Judge  was  visited  at  midnight  by  a  man  whom  he  had 
robbed  and  who  had  threatened  to  kill  him;  a  broken  door, 
papers  stolen,  a  scuffle,  traces  of  human  blood  (the  micro 
scope  said  so)  in  several  places,  blood  on  the  window  sill, 
a  heavy  something  thrown  out  of  the  window  and  carried 
off  by  two  men,  blood  on  the  back  fence,  and  no  trace  of 
the  Judge. 

It  was  a  strong  case,  and  any  attempt  to  gloss  it  over 
was  rendered  impossible  by  the  illustrated  broadside  with 
which  the  newspaper  startled  the  public. 


CHAPTER  LVII 
THE   TRIAL 

A~>  Chicago  remembers  the  trial  of  Michael  Shay. 
It  filled  the  papers  for  a  month;  it  rilled  folk's 
minds  and  mouths  for  two.  Many  a  worse  mur 
der  had  been  quietly  buried  and  forgotten,  but  this  was  too 
conspicuous.  The  boss,  facing  a  decline  of  his  power,  had 
undoubtedly  murdered  the  man  he  had  begun  to  fear,  and 
the  parties  in  control  of  all  the  machinery  of  justice  were 
against  the  accused. 

The  case  was  thoroughly  threshed  out.  Shay  had 
openly  threatened  the  life  of  Squeaks;  he  had  tried  before 
to  do  him  hurt;  had  gone  with  two  men  to  Squeaks's  lodg 
ings;  had  warned  Schmidt  that  there  was  going  to  be  "a 
little  fuss";  had  broken  open  the  door  and  got  certain  papers 
— his  own  property,  undoubtedly,  but  now  splashed  with 
blood;  a  shot  had  been  heard — a  heavy  something  thrown 
from  the  back  window  and  then  carried  off  by  two  men; 
blood  on  the  floor,  the  sill  and  the  back  fence;  and  the 
Judge  had  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  The 
case  was  clear,  the  jury  retired,  but  quickly  brought  in  a 
verdict  of  guilty,  although  at  every  point  there  was  noth 
ing  but  circumstantial  evidence. 

Jim  Hartigan  was  one  of  the  first  friends  to  call  on  Shay 
after  his  arrest,  and  Belle  came  soon  after.  They  heard 

387 


388    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

his  story,  which  was  simple  and  straight:  Squeaks  was 
holding  the  papers  which  would  be,  at  least,  damaging  to 
Shay's  property  and  reputation;  he  got  them  in  confidence 
and  then  defied  Shay  to  come  and  take  them.  Shay  de 
cided  it  would  be  well  to  take  two  witnesses  and  went,  as 
planned,  to  Squeaks's  apartments.  Finding  the  door 
locked  and  believing  that  Squeaks  was  inside,  he  forced  it 
open;  the  room  was  dark  and  no  one  was  there.  He 
lighted  the  gas  and  rummaged  through  the  desk  for  the 
papers  that  belonged  to  him,  paying  no  attention  to  any 
others.  He  saw  blood  on  some  of  the  papers,  but  didn't 
know  where  it  came  from.  As  he  was  coming  away,  he 
heard  a  pistol  shot,  either  upstairs  or  outside,  he  didn't 
know  which.  He  knew  nothing  about  anything  thrown 
from  the  window.  He  got  his  own  property  and  came  away. 

Although  every  particle  of  evidence  adduced  by  the 
prosecuting  attorney  was  circumstantial,  it  was  very  com 
plete.  Some  juries  would  have  felt  reasonable  doubt,  but 
no  one  could  get  over  the  facts  that  Shay  had  threatened 
Squeaks's  life  and  that  Squeaks  had  disappeared  after  a 
visit  from  Shay  which  left  traces  of  blood  in  Squeaks's 
apartment.  The  trial  over,  the  verdict  of  guilty  rendered, 
Shay  was  asked  if  he  could  offer  any  reason  why  he  should 
not  be  condemned.  He  rose  and  said:  "Only  that  I 
didn't  do  it.  I  never  saw  him  from  that  time  in  the  club  a 
week  before." 

Then  the  judge  pronounced  the  awful  words:  ".  .  . 
Hanged  by  the  neck  till  you  are  dead."  Shay  sat  stunned 
for  a  minute,  then,  when  the  jailor  tapped  his  shoulder, 
rose  and  walked  silently  forth  to  the  cell  of  the  doomed. 


THE  TRIAL  389 

It  is  the  hour  of  trial  that  sifts  out  your  friends.  There 
were  two  at  least  who  followed  every  move  in  that 
crowded  court  room — Hartigan  and  his  wife.  They  had 
learned  that  the  crude,  brutal  exterior  of  the  prizefighter 
held  a  heart  that  was  warm  and  true.  They  had  learned 
that  they  could  go  to  him  with  certainty  of  success  when 
they  wanted  help  for  some  struggling  man  or  woman  in 
their  ward.  They  knew  that  he  would  not  drive  a  bargain 
for  his  help,  nor  plaster  his  gift  with  religious  conditions. 
It  was  enough  for  him  to  know  that  a  fellow-being  was  in 
need  and  that  he  had  the  power  to  help  him.  Shay  was  a 
product  of  submergence  and  evil  system;  he  was  wrong  in 
his  theories,  wrong  in  his  methods,  wrong  in  his  life;  but 
his  was  a  big,  strong  spirit — ever  kind.  And  out  of  the 
strange  beginnings  there  had  grown  a  silent  but  real 
friendship  between  the  Hartigans  and  himself. 

On  the  black  day  of  the  verdict  and  the  sentence,  Belle 
and  Jim  were  sadly  sitting  at  home.  "Jim,"  she  said,  "I 
know  he  didn't  do  it;  his  story  is  so  simple  and  sound.  It's 
easy  to  get  human  blood  if  you  have  a  friend  in  the  hos 
pital;  he  is  innocent.  We  know  that  Squeaks  could  easily 
have  access  to  a  room  upstairs;  that  bundle  may  have  been 
thrown  out  from  the  window  merely  as  a  part  of  a  plot. 
Everything  is  against  Shay  now  because  he  is  in  wrong 
with  the  party;  but,  surely,  there  is  something  we  can 
do." 

"His  attorney  asked  for  an  appeal,  but  I  am  afraid  it 
won't  be  entertained;  there  is  no  new  evidence — no  reason 
for  delay  that  they  can  see  or  wish  to  see." 

"That  attorney  has  behaved  very  suspiciously,  I  think. 


390    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Don't  you  think  the  governor  might  intervene  with  at  least 
a  commutation?"  she  suggested. 

"The  governor!  His  worst  enemy/'  said  Jim.  "The 
governor's  been  after  him  for  years." 

Hope  seemed  gone.  They  sat  in  silence;  then  she  said: 
"Pray,  Jim;  maybe  light  will  come."  And  together  they 
prayed  that  the  God  of  justice  and  mercy  would  send  his 
light  down  among  them  and  guide  them  in  this  awful 
time.  It  was  a  short  and  simple  prayer,  followed  by  a 
long  silence. 

Belle  spoke:  "There  is  only  one  thing  that  can  be  done; 
that  is  find  Squeaks.  I  know  he  is  living  somewhere  yet, 
gloating  probably  over  the  success  of  his  plan  to  get  rid  of 
Shay.  I  know  he  is  alive,  and  we  must  find  him.  We 
have  one  month  to  do  it,  Jim.  We  must  find  him." 

Jim  shook  his  head.  "We've  tried  hard  enough  al 
ready.  We've  examined  every  corpse  taken  out  of  the 
river  or  exposed  at  the  morgue." 

"Well;  doesn't  that  help  to  prove  that  he  is  alive?" 

"We've  advertised  and  notified  every  police  station  in 
the  country,"  Jim  continued. 

"They  don't  want  to  find  him,  Jim;  they're  on  the  other 
side." 

"I  don't  know  what  else  to  do." 

"Jim,  I've  read  enough  and  seen  enough  of  human  na 
ture  to  know  that,  if  Squeaks  is  alive,  he's  not  hiding  in 
California  or  Florida  or  London;  he's  right  here  in  South 
Ward  where  he  can  watch  things.  It's  my  belief,  Jim, 
that  he's  been  in  the  court  room  watching  the  trial." 

Jim  shook  his  head;  but  she  went  on.     "This  much  I'm 


THE  TRIAL  39i 

sure;  he  would  hang  around  his  former  haunts,  and  we 
should  leave  nothing  undone  to  find  him." 

They  went  first  to  Shay's  attorney,  but  he  dismissed 
the  idea  as  chimerical,  so  they  dropped  him  from  their 
plans.  Together  they  set  to  work,  with  little  hope  indeed, 
but  it  was  at  least  better  to  be  up  and  doing.  Judge 
Squeaks's  office  was  small,  easily  entered  and  productive  of 
nothing.  The  police  would  give  no  information  and  seemed 
little  interested  in  the  new  theory.  Squeaks's  lodgings 
yielded  nothing  new,  but  they  found  that  Belle's  theory 
was  right;  he  had  also  had  a  room  on  the  floor  above.  The 
woman  in  the  gray  cloak  had  called  on  him  once  or  twice  in 
the  previous  month  and  had  come  once  since.  She  was  a 
sort  of  janitress,  as  she  had  a  key  and  straightened  up  his 
room.  There  was  no  hint  of  help  in  this.  There  was  only 
one  of  his  haunts  that  they  had  not  thoroughly  examined, 
that  was  the  club.  There  was  no  need  for  that,  as  they 
knew  every  one  that  came  and  went,  at  least  by  sight. 

Mrs.  Hartigan  was  sitting  in  the  club  office  at  the  back 
of  the  building  next  day  when  Skystein  came  in,  and  sat 
down  to  go  over  some  club  letters,  officially  addressed  to 
him.  As  he  read  he  made  a  note  on  each  and  sorted  them 
into  three  neat  piles.  Belle  watched  him  with  interest 
that  was  a  little  tinged  with  shame.  It  is  so  human  to 
consider  a  man  inferior  if  he  does  not  speak  your  language 
fluently,  and  the  early  impression  they  had  gotten  of  Sky- 
stein  gave  them  a  sense  of  lofty  pity.  But  it  did  not  last. 
At  every  board  meeting  they  had  found  reason  to  respect 
the  judgment  and  worldly  knowledge  of  the  little  Hebrew; 
those  keen  black  eyes  stood  for  more  than  cunning,  they 


392    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

were  the  lights  of  intellect.  Belle  turned  to  him  now.  If 
any  one  knew  the  underworld  of  the  South  Ward  it  was  he, 
and  what  he  didn't  know  he  had  means  to  find  out. 

She  openly,  frankly,  told  him  all  she  knew  and  sus 
pected.  He  heard  her  at  first  doubtingly,  then  with  grow 
ing  interest,  then  with  a  glare  of  intense  attention  and  con 
viction  at  last.  His  eyes  twinkled  knowingly  as  she  ex 
pressed  her  opinion  of  the  attorney.  Skystein  uttered  the 
single  word  "fixed."  Then  he  tapped  his  white  teeth  with 
his  slender  forefinger  and  rose  to  get  the  membership  roll. 
He  looked  over  it,  but  got  no  help;  there  was  no  one  en 
tered  within  the  last  few  months  that  they  could  not  fully 
account  for. 

They  sat  gazing  in  silence  through  the  window  into  the 
adjoining  reading  room  when  an  elderly  woman  came  in 
and  sat  down.  She  wore  a  gray  cloak  and  large  goggles. 

"Who  is  she?"  said  Belle.  "I've  seen  her  often  enough, 
but  I  don't  remember  her  name." 

"Dat's  Mrs.  Davis:  she's  been  coming  only  about  five 
months.  She  was  one  of  Squeaks's  members." 

A  ray  of  hope  shot  into  Belle's  brain.  "This  fits  the 
description  of  Squeaks's  cleaning  woman.  She  knows 
where  he  is  hidden;  she  takes  him  food  and  keeps  him 
posted.  She  is  here  now  for  the  news."  The  woman  at 
the  desk  raised  her  face;  through  the  goggles  and  through 
that  inner  window  she  saw  the  two  gazing  at  her.  She 
rose  quickly,  but  without  hurry,  and  left  the  building. 
Skystein  turned  after  her,  without  actually  running,  but 
she  had  disappeared. 

"That  woman  knows  where  Squeaks  is  hiding,"  said 


THE  TRIAL  393 

Belle.  But  what  became  of  her  was  a  puzzle.  They  were 
confronted  now  by  a  stone  wall,  for  there  was  no  trace  of 
her.  The  old  janitor  at  Squeaks's  lodging  had  not  seen 
her  for  two  weeks  and  she  did  not  again  appear  at  the 
club. 

Michael  Shay's  religion  so  far  as  he  had  any,  was  of  the 
Ulster  type,  and  Jim  Hartigan  was  accepted  as  his  spiritual 
adviser  and  allowed  to  see  him  often.  Jim  and  Belle 
agreed  that  it  was  well  to  tell  him  everything  in  their 
minds,  to  keep  alive  the  light  of  hope,  or  maybe  get  from 
him  some  clue.  Two  weeks  passed  thus  without  a  hint. 
Then,  one  evening  as  Skystein  came  late  to  the  club,  he  saw 
a  woman  go  out.  He  went  to  the  desk  and  asked  who  it 
was.  The  register  showed  a  strange  name,  but  the  clerk 
thought  it  was  the  gray  woman  till  she  looked  at  the  name. 
Skystein  rushed  out  as  fast  as  possible,  just  in  time  to  see  a 
gray-cloaked  figure  board  the  car.  There  was  no  hack  in 
sight  so  he  leaped  on  the  next  car  and  followed.  He  was 
able  to  watch  the  car  most  of  the  time,  but  saw  only  one 
woman  leave  it.  She  was  in  black.  At  length,  he  got  a 
chance  to  run  forward  and  mount  the  first  car.  He  stayed 
on  the  platform  and  peered  in.  There  was  no  gray- 
cloaked  woman.  He  asked  the  conductor,  and  learned 
that  a  woman  had  got  on  and  taken  off  her  cloak  till  she 
went  out  again  three  blocks  back.  At  once  his  Hebrew 
wit  seized  these  two  ideas:  she  had  deliberately  turned  her 
cloak;  she  was  eluding  pursuit. 

Skystein  went  back  at  once  to  the  street  where  the  black- 
cloaked  woman  had  descended.  Of  course,  he  saw  nothing 
of  her,  but  there  was  a  peanut  vender  of  his  own  race,  at 


394  THE  PREACHER  OF   CEDAR   MOUNTAIN 

the  corner.  Skystein  stopped,  bought  a  bag  of  peanuts 
and  began  to  eat  them.  Casually  he  asked  the  merchant 
if  that  woman  in  gray  bought  peanuts  there.  The  vender 
didn't  seem  to  comprehend,  so  Skystein  addressed  him  in 
Yiddish;  told  him  the  woman  was  a  detective,  and  prom 
ised  to  give  ten  dollars  for  information  as  to  where  she 
lived  or  what  she  was  after.  The  expression  on  the  peanut 
man's  face  showed  an  eagerness  to  find  out  the  facts  with 
all  possible  speed.  But  a  week  went  by  and  he  had  noth 
ing  to  report. 

Meanwhile,  Jim  was  at  Joliet  in  daily  conference  with 
Shay,  reporting  to  him  the  success  or  ill  success  of  the 
search;  reporting,  alas,  how  little  help  they  got  from  those 
who  were  supposed  to  forward  the  ends  of  justice.  Money 
was  not  lacking,  but  it  would  help  little;  if  an  open  cam 
paign  were  conducted  to  find  the  man  they  believed  to  be 
in  hiding,  it  might  put  an  insuperable  obstacle  in  the  way. 
The  governor  was  approached,  but  he  was  little  disposed  to 
listen  or  order  a  stay,  least  of  all  when  they  had  nothing 
but  a  vague  theory  to  offer. 

Four  days  more  went  by,  and  Skystein  found  the  peanut 
man  in  high  excitement.  He  had  seen  the  gray  woman; 
she  passed  down  his  street  and,  before  he  could  follow, 
turned  into  a  side  street;  he  left  his  peanuts  and  ran  to  fol 
low,  but  got  no  second  glimpse.  She  must  have  gone  into 
one  of  the  near-by  tenements.  "Didn't  Mr.  Skystein 
orter  pay  for  de  peanuts  stole  by  de  boys,  as  well  as  de  re 
ward." 

Two  days  of  life  remained  to  Shay.  Hope  had  died  out 
of  their  hearts.  Hartigan  was  preparing  him  for  the  great 


THE  TRIAL  395 

change  that  is  always  a  bitter  change  when  so  approached. 
Belle  still  clung  to  hope.  She  posted  herself  where  she 
could  view  the  street,  and  made  judicious  inquiries,  but  got 
no  help.  The  gray  mantle  was  not  a  complete  identifica 
tion;  the  woman  might  have  a  dozen  mantles.  She  went 
to  the  police  station  to  enlist  their  cooperation.  The 
Precinct  Captain  took  no  stock  in  the  story  and  refused  to 
order  a  house-to-house  search.  Finally — for  even  police 
are  human — he  promised  to  search  any  particular  house 
when  it  was  indicated,  and  to  give  reasonable  support  to 
any  move  that  was  obviously  in  the  cause  of  justice. 

The  morning  of  the  execution  came  and  nothing  had  de 
veloped  to  revive  their  hopes.  Belle  was  on  watch  at  the 
street  corner  when  on  the  main  avenue  an  excitement 
occurred.  A  Savoyard  with  a  dancing  bear  was  holding  a 
public  show  and  gathering  in  a  few  coins.  An  idea  came 
to  her;  she  made  her  way  through  the  crowd  and  said: 
"Here,  is  a  dollar,  if  you  make  him  dance  before  every 
house  on  this  street."  The  Savoyard  smiled  blandly, 
bowed,  pocketed  the  dollar  and,  leading  the  bear  into  the 
side  street  that  Belle  had  watched  so  long,  began  the  dron 
ing  song  that  caused  the  animal  to  rear  up  and  sway  his 
huge,  heavy  body  round  and  round  as  he  walked.  All  the 
world  came  forth  to  see,  or  peered  from  upper  windows;  all 
the  world  was  watching  the  strange  antics  of  the  bear — all 
but  one.  Belle's  keen  brown  eyes  were  watching  the 
crowd,  watching  the  doorways,  and  watching,  at  length, 
the  windows  with  desperate  eagerness  for  sign  of  the  gray 
woman.  There  seemed  to  be  no  gray  woman;  but,  of  a 
sudden,  she  saw  a  thing  that  stopped  her  heart.  Flat 


396    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

against  the  window  of  a  second-floor  room,  and  intently 
watching  the  bear,  was  the  pale,  wizened,  evil  face  of 
Squeaks! 

Belle's  hand  trembled  as  she  noted  the  house,  the  num 
ber  and  the  very  room;  then,  passing  quickly  around  the 
corner,  she  hailed  a  cab  and  drove  for  life  to  the  telegraph 
office,  where  she  telegraphed  Jim: 

"Hold  up  the  execution  for  two  hours;  we  have  found  Squeaks." 

(Signed)  "BELLE" 

Then  away  to  the  police  station.  "Captain,  Captain, 
I've  found  Squeaks!  Come,  come  at  once  and  get  him." 

"I  have  to  know  about  it  first,"  said  he,  calmly. 

"Oh,  Captain,  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  It  is  ten  o'clock 
now;  the  execution  is  fixed  for  noon." 

The  Captain  shook  his  head. 

"Then  telegraph  the  Governor,"  she  begged. 

"He  wouldn't  pay  any  attention  to  your  say-so." 

"Then  come  at  once  and  see;  I  have  a  cab  here." 

The  Captain  and  two  men  went  with  Belle.  They 
entered  the  cab.  "I'll  give  you  double  fare  to  go  your  fast 
est,"  Belle  said  through  her  white,  compressed  lips;  and  the 
kindly  cabman,  sensing  something  out  of  common,  »said, 
"I'll  do  my  best,  miss." 

In  ten  minutes,  they  were  in  the  side  street.  The  bear 
was  gone,  the  crowd  was  gone.  The  police  entered  with 
out  knocking,  went  to  the  second  floor,  to  the  very  door 
and  then  knocked.  There  was  no  answer.  The  Captain 
put  his  shoulder  to  the  door  and  forced  it  in.  There,  sure 
enough,  standing  in  an  attitude  of  fear  in  a  far  corner  was 
the  thin  woman  of  the  gray  cloak. 


THE  TRIAL  397 

"Where  is  Judge  Squeaks?  He  was  seen  in  this  room 
half  an  hour  ago." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  and  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  skinny  hands  and  began  to  cry. 

"You  must  come  to  the  station  at  once,"  said  the  Cap 
tain.  Then  to  Belle:  "Will  you  testify  that  this  is  the 
woman?" 

Belle  was  white  and  trembling,  but  she  walked  up  and 
said:  "I  will  testify  that  this  is "  She  reached  for 
ward,  peering  at  the  woman's  hidden  face.  Then  seizing 
the  loose  hair,  Belle  gave  one  jerk,  the  wig  came  off,  and 
they  were  facing  Judge  Squeaks! 

"My  God !"  was  all  the  Captain  had  to  say.  "The  tele 
phone  as  quick  as  possible!  You  hold  him."  He  dashed 
down  the  stairs  and  made  for  the  nearest  long  distance 
wire.  It  was  half  an  hour  before  they  could  connect  with 
Springfield,  only  to  learn  that  the  Governor  had  left  for 
Chicago  and  was  expected  to  arrive  there  about  noon. 


CHAPTER  LVIII 
IN  THE   DEATH  HOUSE 

SHAY  sat  calmly  waiting  as  the  big  clock  ticked  his 
life  away  that  morning  in  the  house  of  death  at 
Joliet.  At  eleven  o'clock,  Hartigan  received 
Belle's  telegram:  "We  have  found  Squeaks."  He  rushed 
to  the  Sheriff  with  it.  That  officer  was  very  sorry,  but 
"no  one  except  the  Governor  had  any  right  to  order  a 
stay." 

"Why,  sir,"  said  Jim,  "you  are  not  going  to  hang  an  in 
nocent  man,  when  here  is  proof  of  his  innocence." 

"There  is  no  proof  in  that  telegram.  I  don't  know 
who  "Belle"  is.  I  get  my  orders  from  the  Courts.  No 
one  but  the  Governor  can  order  a  reprieve." 

Jim  sent  a  telegram  to  Springfield  only  to  learn,  as  Belle 
had  done,  that  the  Governor  had  left  for  Chicago.  He  sent 
telegrams  to  every  one  who  had  the  power  to  help.  He 
telegraphed  Belle;  he  rushed  to  the  Sheriff  to  beg  for  God's 
sake  but  one  hour's  reprieve.  He  hurried  to  the  pen 
itentiary  to  find  another  telegram  from  Belle: 

Pray  without  ceasing  for  an  hour's  delay.    We  have  Squeaks  now. 

But  the  clock  ticked  on.  He  literally  ran  to  Michael's 
cell;  the  jailer  opened  the  way.  "Michael,"  he  gasped, 
"we  have  found  Squeaks;  we  know  you  are  innocent  " 

398 


IN  THE  DEATH  HOUSE  399 

Michael  was  the  calmest  of  all.  "Whatever  is  God's 
will  I'll  take  without  a  grumble/'  he  said,  and  sat  smoking. 

At  a  quarter  to  twelve  the  Sheriff  appeared. 

"Why,  Sheriff,  you  are  not  going  to — when  you  know 
the  reprieve  is  on  the  way.  You  are  not  going  to  let  a 
technicality  lead  you  into  murder?" 

"I  have  no  change  in  my  instructions,"  said  the  Sheriff, 
"and  no  proof  that  any  change  is  on  the  way." 

"Why;  this  is  monstrous,"  gasped  Jim.  "An  hour's  de 
lay  is  all  we  ask,  so  the  Governor  can  be  reached." 

The  Sheriff  motioned  the  guard  to  move  on,  and  Shay 
walked  firmly  between  the  two  officers.  They  came  into 
the  prison  yard.  There  assembled  were  a  score  of  officials 
and  newspaper  men. 

"Have  you  any  final  statement  to  make?"  asked  the 
State  officials. 

"Nothing,  only  that  I  am  innocent  and  Squeaks  is  alive 
at  this  moment." 

That  was  an  old  story — an  old  trick  to  win  time.  The 
officers  were  preparing  to  act,  when  Hartigan  pale  and 
exultant,  swinging  the  last  telegram  before  the  Sheriff,  re 
read  it  and  for  the  first  time  truly  got  its  meaning.  He 
said:  "Let  us  pray." 

They  kneeled  down,  all  of  them,  in  accordance  with  the 
ancient  custom,  and  Jim  began  to  pray.  His  voice  was 
broken  and  husky,  but  it  grew  steadier  as  he  appealed  to 
the  God  of  Justice  and  Mercy.  He  prayed  and  prayed; 
the  clock  struck  twelve,  but  still  he  prayed.  "Pray 
without  ceasing,"  Belle's  message  had  said.  His  gift  of 
speech  stood  by  him  now;  a  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  and 


400    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

still  he  was  pouring  out  petitions  to  the  throne  of  grace;  an 
other  quarter  of  an  hour  and  his  voice  was  a  little  weary, 
but  he  prayed  on.  Still  another,  and  another,  and  the 
clock  struck  one.  All  those  men  still  kneeled,  dead  silent, 
except  for  a  low,  sobbing  sound  from  the  little  group  far 
ther  off.  The  Sheriff  waited  uneasily;  he  coughed  a  little 
and  waited  for  a  gap — but  there  was  no  gap;  Jim  bared  his 
heart  to  God  that  day.  He  prayed  as  he  never  did  before 
and  all  his  bodily  strength  went  into  his  prayer.  At  a 
quarter  past  one,  when  he  was  still  calling  on  the  God  of 
Life  for  help,  the  Sheriff  knew  not  what  to  do,  for  by  the  un 
written  law  the  man  of  God  had  a  right  to  finish  his  prayer. 
At  half  past  one,  the  Sheriff  moved  uneasily  and  at  length 
uttered  a  faint  "Amen,"  as  though  to  give  the  signal  to 
stop.  As  it  had  no  effect  he  realized  for  the  first  time  just 
what  Hartigan's  desperation  and  iron  will  were  leading 
him  to  do,  he  took  cover  under  the  technicality  and  played 
the  game  with  him.  Shay  would  have  a  chance  as  long  as 
the  Preacher's  voice  lasted.  The  party  all  stood,  hats  off, 
except  those  around  the  condemned  one.  They  still 
kneeled,  some  of  them,  while  others  in  bodily  weariness, 
were  frankly  sitting  on  the  scaffold.  And  the  Preacher 
prayed  on.  His  voice  was  thick  and  husky  now;  he  could 
scarcely  enunciate  the  words.  The  big  clock  ticked  and 
two  was  struck.  Still  Jim  prayed,  as  one  who  hopes  and 
clings  to  any  hope. 

There  were  uneasy  movements  among  the  witnesses. 
The  Sheriff  said  "Amen"  twice  again,  quite  loudly  so  that 
no  one  else  should  interrupt,  but  he  was  under  a  terrible 
strain.  It  was  ten  minutes  after  two  when  a  shout  was 


IN  THE  DEATH  HOUSE  401 

heard  from  the  outer  office  and  a  warden  with  a  paper  came 
running,  shrieking,  "Reprieve  !  Reprieve  !" 

Jim  turned  to  look  and  closed  his  prayer:  .  .  . 

and  this  we  ask  for  Jesus's  sake";  then  he  fell  flat  upon  the 
scaffold. 

"I  knew  she  would,  I  knew  she  would;  Belle  never  failed 
me  yet,"  were  the  first  words  he  uttered  when  he  revived. 

The  Sheriff  read  the  Governor's  telegram  to  the  crowd : 
"Reprieve  Michael  Shay  for  three  days." 

As  they  led  him  back  to  the  house  of  death,  which  was  to 
him  a  house  of  resurrection,  there  was  the  whistle  of  a 
special  train  followed  by  the  clatter  of  a  carriage  approach 
ing  the  gate.  Whoever  it  was  had  the  right  of  entry. 
Hurried  footsteps  were  heard,  and  short,  low  words. 
Then  the  doors  swung  wide  for — the  Governor  himself, 
John  Hopkins,  and  Belle.  White  fear  was  on  their  faces 
till  they  met  a  warder  who  knew. 

"All  right,  sir;  we  got  it  in  time." 

"Thank  God!" 

"Yes,  sir;  two  hours  after  the  time  fixed.  But  the  min 
ister  was  in  the  middle  of  his  prayer  and  he  didn't  seem  to 
finish  till  it  came." 

The  party  entered  the  death  house,  and  at  once  were 
ushered  into  the  room  where  Shay  and  Jim  were  sitting. 
Jim  was  weak  and  worn  looking.  The  warden  announced, 
"The  Governor."  Jim  rose,  and  in  a  moment,  Belle  was 
in  his  arms.  "I  knew  you  would.  I  knew  you  would.  I 
got  your  message.  I  prayed  without  ceasing.  I  would 
have  been  at  it  yet." 

Mike  Shay,  calm  until  now,  broke  down.     Tears  ran 


402    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

from  his  small  gray  eyes,  and  clutching  the  soft  hand  of  his 
deliverer,  he  murmured:  "There  ain't  anything  I  got  too 
good  for  the  Hartigans.  Ye — ye — ye — oh,  God  damn  it! 
I  can't  talk  about  it!"  and  he  sobbed  convulsively. 

The  Governor  shook  his  hand  and  said :  "Michael  Shay, 
I  think  the  danger  is  over  so  far  as  you  are  concerned;  all 
will  be  well  now  that  Squeaks  is  found."  Shay  mumbled  a 
"thank  you."  "Don't  thank  me,"  replied  the  man  of 
power.  "You  may  thank  the  loyal  friends  who  found  the 
trap  and  found  the  answer  and  found  the  Governor,  when 
almost  any  any  other  man  or  woman  would  have  given 
up." 


CHAPTER  LIX 
THE   HEART  HUNGER 

WHEN  the  flood  rushes  over  the  meadow  and  tears 
the  surface  smoothness,  it  exposes  the  unmoved 
rock  foundation;  when  the  fire  burns  down  the 
flimsy  woodwork,  it  shows  in  double  force  the  unchanged 
girders  of  steel.     Storm  and  fire  in  double  power  and  heat 
had  been  Jim's  lot  for  weeks  and,  in  less  degree,  for  months. 
Now  there  was  a  breathing  spell,  a  time  to  stop  and  look  at 
the  things  beneath. 

It  was  a  little  thing  that  gave  Belle  the  real  key  to  a 
puzzle.  It  occurred  one  afternoon  in  the  apartment  and 
Belle  saw  it  from  the  inner  room.  Jim  thought  he  was 
alone;  he  did  not  know  she  had  returned.  He  stood  before 
the  picture  of  Blazing  Star,  and  lifting  down  the  bunch  of 
sage  he  smelt  it  a  long  time,  then  sighed  a  little  and  put  it 
back.  Belle  saw  and  understood.  The  rock  foundation 
was  unchanged;  he  loved  and  longed  for  the  things  he  had 
always  loved,  and  the  experiences  of  these  months  had  but 
exposed  the  granite  beneath.  The  thought  that  had  been 
in  her  heart  since  the  day  he  put  the  ring  on  her  finger, 
rose  up  with  appalling  strength.  "He  gave  up  every 
thing  for  me.  I  taught  him  that  his  duty  lay  through  col 
lege  and  then  made  him  give  that  up  for  me."  She  had 
been  quick  enough  to  mark  the  little  turnings  of  his  spirit 


4o4    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

toward  the  West  when  there  were  times  of  relaxation  or  un- 
guardedness.  But  she  had  hitherto  set  them  down  to  a 
general  wish  to  visit  former  scenes  rather  than  to  a  deep? 
persistent,  fundamental  craving. 

Many  little  things  which  she  had  noted  in  him  came  up 
before  her  now,  not  as  accidental  fragments,  but  as  surface 
outcroppings  of  the  deep,  continuous,  everlasting  granite 
rock,  the  real  longing  of  his  nature;  and  the  strength  of  its 
fixity  appalled  her.  As  she  watched  from  the  outer  room 
on  that  epochal  afternoon,  she  saw  him  kneel  with  his  face 
to  the  western  sky  and  pray  that  the  way  might  be  opened, 
that  he  yet  might  fulfil  the  vow  he  made  to  devote  his  life 
to  bearing  the  message  of  the  Gospel.  "Nevertheless,  not 
my  will,  but  Thine  be  done." 

He  sat  long  facing  the  glowing  West  which  filled  his  win 
dow  and  then  rose  and  walked  into  the  inner  room.  He 
was  greatly  astonished  to  find  Belle  there,  lying  on  the  bed, 
apparently  asleep.  He  sat  down  beside  her  and  took  her 
hand.  She  opened  her  eyes  slowly  as  though  awakening — 
gentle  hypocrite. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  back,"  he  said.  She  closed  her 
eyes  again  as  though  they  were  heavy  with  sleep.  It  was  a 
small  fraud,  but  it  set  his  mind  at  ease,  as  she  meant  it 
should. 

After  a  time,  she  roused  herself  and  began  with  en 
thusiasm:  "Oh,  Jim,  I  have  had  such  a  clear  and  lovely 
dream.  I  thought  we  were  back  at  Cedar  Mountain, 
riding  again  in  the  sagebrush,  with  the  prairie  wind  blow 
ing  through  our  very  souls." 

She  watched  his  face  eagerly  and  saw  the  response  she 


THE  HEART  HUNGER  405 

expected.  It  came  in  larger  measure  than  she  had  looked 
for.  "I  felt  as  though  I  could  do  anything,"  she  went  on, 
"go  anywhere  or  take  any  jump;  and  just  as  I  was  riding 
full  tilt  at  the  Yellowbank  Canyon,  you  took  me  by  the 
hand  and  held  me  back;  then  I  awoke  and  you  did  have  my 
hand.  Isn't  it  queer  the  way  dreams  melt  into  reality?" 
She  laughed  happily  and  went  on  as  if  he  were  opposing 
the  project:  "Why  not,  Jim?  You  need  a  holiday;  why 
shouldn't  we  go  and  drink  a  long  deep  draught  of  life  in  the 
hills  and  sage  ?  I  know  we'll  get  a  clearer  vision  of  life 
from  the  top  of  Cedar  Mountain  than  we  can  anywhere 
else." 

"It  seems  too  good  to  be  true,"  he  slowly  answered,  and 
his  voice  trembled.  Less  than  half  an  hour  ago  he  had 
prayed  for  this  and  suddenly  the  way  seemed  plain,  if  not 
yet  open. 

The  winter  and  spring  had  gone,  and  the  summer  was 
dying.  In  all  this  time  the  Hartigans  had  carried  their 
daily,  hourly  burden,  without  halt  or  change.  Whatever 
of  hardship  there  was,  came  in  the  form  of  thwarted  plans, 
heart-cravings  for  things  they  felt  they  must  give  up.  Jim 
made  no  mention  of  his  disappointments  and,  so  far  as  he 
could,  he  admitted  his  hunger  neither  to  himself  nor  to 
Belle.  It  was  merely  a  matter  of  form,  applying  for  a 
month's  leave;  this  had  been  agreed  on  from  the  beginning. 
The  largest  difficulty  was  in  the  fact  that  they  must  go  to 
gether — the  head  and  the  second  head  both  away  at  once. 
But  there  were  two  good  understudies  ready  trained — 
Skystein  and  Dr.  Mary  Mudd — with  Mr.  Hopkins  as 
chairman  to  balance  their  powers.  Michael  Shay  too, 


4o6    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

came  to  offer  gruffly  and  huskily  his  help :  "  If  I  can  do  any 
thing,  like  puttin'  up  cash,  or  fixin'  anybody  that's  workin' 
agin  you,  count  on  Mike."  Then  after  a  pause  he  added,  a 
little  wistfully:  "I  ain't  got  many  real  friends,  but  I  want 
to  have  them  know  Fm  real,  and  I  know  the  real  thing 
when  I  find  it." 

A  conference  was  finally  held  and  the  management  of  the 
Club  was  turned  over  to  the  chairman  and  his  aides  for  a 
month.  Jim  and  Belle  were  like  children  on  leave  from 
boarding  school.  They  packed  in  wild  hilarity  and  took 
the  first  train  the  schedule  afforded  for  Cedar  Mountain. 


CHAPTER  LX 

THE  GATEWAY  AND  THE   MOUNTAIN 

A  GUST  with  its  deadening  heat  was  over;  Sep 
tember,  bright,  sunny  and  tonic,  was  come  to  re 
vive  the  world.  Rank  foliage  was  shaking  off 
the  summer  dust,  and  a  myriad  noisy  insects  were  strum 
ming,  chirping,  fiddling,  buzzing,  screeping  in  the  dense 
undergrowth.  It  was  evening  when  they  boarded  the 
train  for  the  West  and  took  the  trail  that  both  had  taken 
before,  but  never  with  such  a  background  of  events  or  such 
an  eagerness  for  what  was  in  the  future.  As  the  train 
roared  through  the  fertile  fields  of  Illinois,  with  their  corn 
fields,  their  blackbirds  and  their  myriads  of  cattle,  red  and 
white,  the  sun  went  down — a  red  beacon  blaze,  a  bonfire 
welcome  on  their  pathway  just  before  the  engine — a 
promise  and  a  symbol. 

It  was  near  noon  the  next  day  when  they  reached  the 
junction  and  took,  the  branch  line  for  the  north.  The 
first  prairie-dog  town  had  set  Jim  ablaze  with  school 
boy  eagerness;  and  when  a  coyote  stood  and  gazed  at  the 
train,  he  rushed  out  on  to  the  platform  to  give  him  the 
hunter's  yell. 

"My,  how  sleek  he  looked !  I  wonder  how  those  prairie 
dogs  feel  as  they  see  him  stalk  around  their  town,  like  a 
policeman  among  the  South  Chicago  kids!" 

407 


4o8    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

When  a  flock  of  prairie  chickens  flew  before  the  train  he 
called,  "Look,  look,  Belle!  See  how  they  sail,  just  as  they 
used  to  do!"  As  though  the  familiar  sights  often  months 
before  were  forty  years  in  the  past. 

They  were  in  the  hills  now,  and  the  winding  train  went 
more  slowly.  Animal  life  was  scarcer  here,  but  the  pine 
trees  and  the  sombre  peaks  were  all  about.  At  five  o'clock 
the  train  swung  down  the  gorge  with  Cedar  Mountain  be 
fore  it,  and  Jim  cried  in  joy:  "There's  our  mountain; 
there's  our  mountain!" 

There  was  a  crowd  assembled  at  the  station  and  as  soon 
as  Jim  appeared  a  familiar  voice  shouted,  "Here  he  is!" 
and,  led  by  Shives,  they  gave  a  hearty  cheer.  All  the 
world  of  Cedar  Mountain  seemed  there.  Pa  Boyd  and 
Ma  Boyd  came  first  to  claim  their  own.  Dr.  Jebb  and  Dr. 
Carson  forgot  their  religious  differences  in  the  good  fellow 
ship  of  the  time,  and  when  the  inner  circle  had  kissed  Belle 
and  manhandled  Jim  to  the  limit  of  custom,  a  quiet  voice 
said:  "Welcome  back,  Mr.  Hartigan,"  and  Charlie  Bylow 
grasped  the  Preacher's  hand.  "I  brought  my  team  so  I 
could  take  care  of  your  trunks."  There  was  only  one  small 
trunk,  but  he  took  the  check  and  would  have  resented  any 
other  man  having  hand  or  say  in  the  matter. 

That  evening  the  meal  was  a  "welcome  home,"  for  a 
dozen  of  the  nearer  friends  were  there  to  hear  the  chapters 
of  their  hero's  life.  Jim  was  in  fine  feather  and  he  told  of 
their  Chicago  life  as  none  other  could  have  done,  with  jest 
and  sly  digs  at  himself  and  happy  tributes  to  the  one  who 
had  held  his  hand  when  comradeship  meant  the  most. 

A  month  of  freedom,  with  youth,  sounds  like  years. 


THE  GATEWAY  AND  THE  MOUNTAIN   409 

Many  plans  were  offered  to  fill  the  time.  An  invitation 
came  from  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Waller  to  spend  three  days  at 
Fort  Ryan.  In  a  delicately  worded  postscript  was  the 
sentence :  "  Blazing  Star  is  well  and  will  be  glad  to  feel  your 
weight  again." 

"Blazing  Star  and  Cedar  Mountain!"  shouted  Jim  as 
Belle  read  the  letter  the  next  morning  at  breakfast.  And 
then,  much  to  Pa  Boyd's  amusement  he  broke  out  in  his 
lusty  baritone: 

"  'Tis  my  ain  countree, 
'Tis  my  ain  countree!' 
The  fairest  brightest  land 
That  the  sun  did  ever  see." 

Midnight  and  the  horse  that  had  been  Belle's  were  wait 
ing  in  the  stable. 

"Now,  where  shall  we  go?  Up  Cedar  Mountain,  to 
Fort  Ryan,  or  where?"  asked  Belle  as  they  saddled  their 
mounts.  His  answer  was  not  what  she  expected.  Cedar 
Mountain  had  ever  been  in  his  thought.  "If  only  I  could 
stand  on  Cedar  Mountain!"  had  been  his  words  so  many 
times.  And  now,  with  Cedar  Mountain  close  at  hand,  in 
sight,  he  said:  "Let's  ride  nowhere  in  particular — just 
through  the  sage." 

They  set  off  and  veered  away  from  Fort  Ryan  and  any 
other  place  where  men  might  cross  their  path.  The 
prairie  larks  sang  about  them  their  lovely  autumn  song — 
the  short,  sweet  call  that  sounds  like:  "Hear  me,  hear  me  / 
I  am  the  herald  announcing  the  King"  Fluttering  in  the 
air  and  floating  for  a  moment  above  the  riders  they 
carolled  a  wild  and  glorious  serenade  that  has  no  possible 


4io    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

rendition  into  human  notation.  After  a  hard  gallop  they 
rode  in  silence  side  by  side,  hand  in  hand,  while  Jim  gazed 
across  the  plain  or  watched  the  fat,  fumbling  prairie  dogs. 
But  ever  he  turned  his  face  and  heart  away  from  Cedar 
Mountain. 

At  first  it  had  been  to  him  but  a  mighty  pile  of  rocks; 
then  it  had  grown  to  be  a  spot  beloved  for  its  sacred  mem 
ories.  It  had  become  a  symbol  of  his  highest  hopes — the 
blessed  things  he  held  too  good  for  words.  He  was  riding 
now  in  the  lust  of  youthful  force;  he  was  dwelling  not  in 
the  past;  or  the  hopeful  far-ahead;  he  was  in  the  living  now, 
and,  high  or  low,  his  instinct  bade  him  drink  the  cup  that 
came. 

As  the  sun  went  down,  he  drew  rein  and  paused  with 
Belle  to  gaze  at  the  golden  fringe  that  the  cedars  made 
on  the  mountain's  edge  in  the  glow.  He  knew  it  and  loved 
it  in  every  light — best  of  all,  perhaps,  in  its  morning  mist, 
when  the  plains  were  yet  gray  and  the  rosy  dawn  was  touch 
ing  its  gleaming  sides.  He  was  content  as  yet  to  look  on  it 
from  afar.  He  would  seek  its  pinnacle  as  he  had  done 
before,  but  something  within  him  said:  "No;  not  yet." 

And  the  wise  young  person  at  his  side  kept  silence;  a 
little  puzzled  but  content,  and  waiting,  wisely  waiting. 


CHAPTER  LXI 
CLEAR  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN 

KIND  friends  and  hearty  greetings  awaited  the  Hart- 
igans  at  the  Fort.  Colonel  Waller,  Mrs.  Waller, 
and  the  staff  received  them  as  long-lost  son  and 
daughter;  and  with  the  least  delay  by  decency  allowed  they 
went  to  the  stable  to  see  Blazing  Star,  still  Fort  Ryan's 
pride.  The  whinnied  welcome  and  the  soft-lipped  fum 
bling  after  sugar  were  the  outward  tokens  of  his  gladness 
at  the  meeting. 

"He's  the  same  as  ever,  Jim,"  said  the  Colonel,  "but  we 
didn't  race  last  summer.  Red  Cloud  came  as  usual,  but 
asked  for  a  handicap  of  six  hundred  yards,  which  meant 
that  they  had  not  got  a  speeder  they  could  trust.  We  had 
trouble,  too,  with  the  Indian  Bureau  over  the  whole  thing, 
so  the  affair  was  called  off.  As  far  as  we  know  now,  Blaz 
ing  Star  is  the  racer  of  the  Plains,  with  Red  Rover  making 
a  good  second.  He's  in  his  prime  yet;  he  could  still  walk  a 
stringer  on  a  black  night,  and  while  you  are  here  at  the 
Fort  he's  yours  as  much  as  you  want  to  use  him." 

Jim's  cup  was  filled  to  overflowing. 

Their  midday  meal  over,  a  ride  was  in  order;  first  around 
the  Fort  among  the  men — Captain  Wayne,  Osier  Mike, 
Scout  Al  Rennie — then  out  over  the  sagebrush  flat. 
"Here's  the  old  battle  ground  of  the  horses;  here's  where 

411 


4i2    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

you  chased  the  coyote,  and  here's  where  Blazing  Star  took 
you  over  the  single  stringer  bridge  on  that  black  night." 
It  was  less  than  a  year  he  had  been  away,  and  yet  Jim  felt 
like  one  who  was  coming  back  to  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood, 
long  gone  by.  His  real  boyhood  in  far-away  Links  was  of 
another  world.  Fightin'  Bill  Kenna,  Whiskey  Mason,  the 
Rev.  Obadiah  Champ,  the  stable  and  the  sawmills,  his 
mother — they  were  dreams;  even  Chicago  was  less  real 
than  this;  and  he  rode  like  a  schoolboy  and  yelled  when 
ever  a  jack  rabbit  jumped  ahead  of  his  horse  and  jerked  its 
white  tail  in  quick  zigzags,  exactly  as  its  kind  had  done  in 
the  days  when  he  lived  in  the  saddle. 

After  dinner,  by  the  log  fire  in  the  Colonel's  dining  room, 
Mrs.  Waller  raised  the  question  of  their  plans.  "Now, 
children"  (she  loved  to  be  maternal),  "what  do  you  want 
to  do  to-morrow?" 

There  was  a  time  when  Belle  would  have  spoken  first, 
but  there  had  been  a  subtle,  yet  very  real,  change  in  their 
relationship.  Jim  was  a  child  three  years  before,  depend 
ent  almost  entirely  on  her;  now  she  was  less  his  leader  than 
she  had  been.  She  waited. 

Gazing  at  the  fire,  his  long  legs  straight  out  and  crossed 
at  the  ankles,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head,  he  lounged 
luxuriously  in  a  great  arm  chair.  Without  turning  his 
gaze  from  the  burning  logs  he  began: 

"If  I  could  do  exactly  what  I  wished " 

"Which  you  may,"  interjected  Mrs.  Waller. 

"I'd  saddle  Blazing  Star  and  Red  Rover  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  morning  and  ride  with  Belle  and  not  come  back  till 


noon." 


CLEAR  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN     413 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Mrs.  Waller  and  the  Colonel.  "You 
children!  You  two  little,  little  ones!  Well,  we  must  re 
member  that  Belle  is  still  a  bride  and  will  be  for  another 
month,  so  we'll  bid  you  Godspeed  on  the  new  wedding  trip 
and  have  your  breakfast  ready  at  half  past  six." 

Early  hours  are  the  rule  in  a  fort  at  the  front,  so  the 
young  folk  were  not  alone  at  breakfast.  And  when  they 
rode  away  on  their  two  splendid  horses,  many  eyes  fol 
lowed  with  delight  the  noble  beauty  of  the  pair — so  fitly 
mounted,  so  gladly  young  and  strong. 

"Now,  where,  Jim?"  said  Belle,  as  they  left  the  gate  and 
thundered  over  the  bridge  at  a  mettlesome  lope.  And  as 
she  asked,  she  remembered  that  that  was  the  very  question 
he  used  always  to  put  to  her. 

"Belle"  (he  reined  in  Blazing  Star),  "I  have  been  wait 
ing  till  it  seemed  just  right — waiting  for  the  very  time,  so 
we  could  stand  again  at  our  shrine.  Sometimes  I  think  I 
know  my  way  and  the  trail  I  ought  to  seek,  and  sometimes  I 
am  filled  with  doubt ;  but  I  know  I  shall  have  the  clear  vision 
if  we  stand  again  as  we  used  to  stand,  above  our  world,  be 
side  the  Spirit  Rock,  on  the  high  peak  of  our  mountain." 

And  then,  in  the  soft  sign  language  of  the  rein  let  loose, 
the  ribs  knee-nudged,  they  bade  their  horses  go.  Side  by 
side  they  rode  and  swung  like  newly  mated  honkers  in  the 
spring — like  two  centaurs,  feeling  in  themselves  the  power, 
the  blood  rush  of  their  every  bound.  In  less  than  half  an 
hour  they  passed  the  little  town  and  were  at  the  foot  of 
Cedar  Mountain.  The  horses  would  have  gone  up  at 
speed,  but  the  riders  held  them  in,  and  the  winding  trail 
was  slowly  followed  up. 


4i4    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

The  mountain  jays  flew  round  the  pines  before  them  as 
they  climbed;  an  eagle  swung  in  circles,  watching  keenly; 
while,  close  at  hand,  the  squirrels  dropped  their  cones  to 
spring  behind  the  trunks  and  chatter  challenge. 

At  the  half-way  ledge  they  halted  for  a  breathing.  Belle 
looked  keenly,  gently  into  Jim's  eyes.  She  was  not  sure 
what  she  saw.  She  wondered  what  his  thoughts  were. 
The  brightness  of  the  morning,  the  joy  of  riding  and  being, 
the  fullness  of  freedom — these  were  in  glowing  reflex  on  his 
face,  but  she  had  seen  these  before;  yet  never  before  had 
she  seen  his  face  so  tense  and  radiant.  Only  once,  per 
haps,  that  time  when  he  came  home  walking  in  the  storm. 

He  smiled  back  at  her,  but  said  nothing.  They  rode 
again  and  in  ten  minutes  came  to  the  end  of  the  horse 
trail.  He  leaped  from  the  saddle,  lifted  her  down,  and 
tied  the  horses.  With  his  strong  hand  under  her  arm,  he 
made  it  easy  for  her  to  climb  the  last  steep  path.  A  hun 
dred  feet  above,  they  reached  the  top,  above  the  final 
trees,  above  the  nearer  peaks,  above  all  other  things  about 
them  except  the  tall,  gray  Spirit  Rock.  Below  spread  a 
great  golden  world;  behind  them  a  world  of  green.  The 
little  wooden  town  seemed  at  the  mountain's  foot— Fort 
Ryan  almost  in  shouting  hail,  though  it  was  six  miles  off; 
beyond,  was  the  open  sea  of  sage,  with  heaving  hills  for 
billows  and  greasewood  streaks  for  foam. 

Jim  gazed  in  utter  silence  so  long  that  she  looked  a  little 
shyly  at  him.  His  face  was  radiant,  his  eye  was  glisten 
ing,  but  he  spoke  no  words.  The  seat  they  had  used  a 
year  before  was  there  and  he  gently  drew  her  toward  it. 
Seated  there  as  of  old,  he  put  his  arm  about  her  and  held 


CLEAR  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN      415 

her  to  him.  She  whispered,  "Make  a  fire."  She  had  in 
deed  interpreted  his  thought.  He  rose,  lighted  a  little 
fire  on  the  altar  at  the  foot  of  the  Spirit  Rock,  and  the 
smoke  rose  up  straight  in  the  still  air.  It  ascended  from 
the  earth  mystery  of  the  fire  to  be  lost  in  the  mystery  of  the 
above.  How  truly  has  it  been  the  symbol  of  prayer  since 
first  man  kindled  fire  and  prayed. 

Jim  took  his  Bible  from  his  pocket  and  read  from  the 
metrical  Psalm  cxxi: 

I  to  the  hills  will  lift  mine  eyes, 
From  whence  doth  come  mine  aid; 

My  safety  cometh  from  the  Lord 
Who  heaven  and  earth  hath  made. 

"They  always  went  up  into  the  hills  to  pray,  Belle, 
didn't  they?  The  fathers  of  the  faith  never  went  down 
into  the  valley  when  they  sought  God's  guidance.  I  don't 
know  why,  but  I  know  that  I  don't  feel  the  same,  away 
down  there  on  the  plains  as  I  do  up  here.  I  see  things 
more  clearly,  I  have  more  belief  in  Him  and  know  He  is 
near  me. 

"The  clouds  have  been  gathering  in  my  mind  pretty 
thick  and  dark;  yes,  darker  the  last  half  year,  Belle.  I 
began  to  doubt  myself  as  I  never  did.  Even  when  we 
were  winning  in  our  Chicago  fight,  I  wondered  whether  I 
was  doing  right.  I  couldn't  see  clearly,  Belle,  and  then  my 
doubt  grew  stronger  and  even  you  could  not  understand; 
there  was  something  within  that  told  me  to  go  back  to 
Cedar  Mountain.  Ever  since  we  got  here  I  have  been 
waiting  for  the  moment  when  I  could  come  to  the  mount 
ain.  From  here,  a  mile  above  the  sea,  I  know  that  I  shall 


416    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

see  the  way  of  wisdom.     I  wonder  if  you  know  what  that 
Rock  means  to  me  with  that  little  thread  of  smoke  going 

UP? 

"Belle,  men  called  Bill  Kenna  a  ruffian  and  a  brute.  I 
guess  he  was,  too,  but  he  had  a  brave,  warm  heart.  His 
whole  religion  was  to  feed  the  hungry  and  honour  his  word 
as  a  man.  That  was  about  all  he  taught  me;  and  he  loved 
my  mother — that's  enough;  it  bit  in  deep.  When  I  gave 
my  word  as  a  man  on  that  wild  night  four  years  ago  when  I 
heard  the  call,  I  vowed  that  I  would,  from  that  time  on,  de 
vote  my  strength  to  telling  others  what  I  had  found  and 
try  to  make  them  find  it,  too.  That  was  my  vow,  Belle; 
I've  tried  to  keep  it.  I  gave  up  things  out  here  because 
they  seemed  to  come  between.  I  may  be  doing  right  in 
the  city  slum  work,  but  it  is  not  what  I  set  out  to  do;  I  am 
not  keeping  to  the  trail." 

Poor  Belle!  The  periods  of  vague  unrest  she  had 
noted;  that  time  of  fervent  prayer;  the  reasons  she  had 
urged  upon  him  for  returning  to  college,  and  the  crisis  in 
which  she  had  forced  him  to  give  it  up — all  now  came  back 
to  her  in  quick  succession.  She  remembered  the  weak 
ness  that  had  so  nearly  ended  all  and  how  he  had  over 
mastered  it — that  craving  for  drink,  so  strong  from  in 
heritance  and  from  the  evil  habits  of  his  earliest  manhood. 
Amid  daily  temptations  of  the  Chicago  life,  it  had  not 
seemed  to  touch  him  even  as  temptation.  The  horses  that 
he  loved  he  had  given  up  for  principle.  The  surface  plasti 
city  he  still  showed  was  merely  the  velvet  that  concealed 
the  rod  of  steel  and  why  he  seemed  so  weak  she  knew 
now,  was  that  he  was  so  young,  so  very  immature,  a  man  in 


CLEAR  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN      417 

stature,  a  little  happy  child  at  heart.     And  the  sting  of 
sudden  iron  hurt  her  soul. 

To  say  that  she  was  shamed  by  remorse  would  not  be 
fair;  but  the  sum  of  her  feelings  was  that  he  had  given  up 
all  for  her;  she  owed  him  something  to  atone. 

There  is  clear  vision  from  the  hilltop — the  far-sight 
is  in  the  high  place.  The  prophets  have  ever  gone  up 
into  the  high  places  for  their  message.  The  uplift  of 
Cedar  Mountain  was  on  his  spirit  and  on  hers.  She  spoke 
softly,  gravely,  and  slowly:  "Jim,  God  surely  brought 
me  into  your  life  for  a  purpose  and,  if  I  am  no  help,  then  I 
have  failed.  As  surely  as  He  sent  us  to  Chicago  to  fight 
that  fight  and  overcome  the  things  about  as  well  as  the 
things  inside,  He  also  sent  us  here  to-day  to  show  our 
inmost  souls,  to  get  light  on  ourselves,  to  learn  the  way  we 
must  go.  I  have  learned,  for  my  spirit's  eyes  are  clearer 
now  and  here  than  they  ever  were  in  my  life  before,  and 
some  things  have  come  to  me  so  vividly  that  I  take  them 
as  commands  from  Him  who  set  this  rock  up  here  and 
brought  us  in  this  frame  of  mind  to  see  it.  Jim,  you 
must  go  back  to  college;  you  must  finish  your  course;  you 
must  carry  out  your  vow  and  consecrate  yourself  to 
spreading  the  gospel  of  His  love." 

Jim  stared  with  glowing  eyes  as  Belle  went  on:  "I've 
thought  it  all  out,  Jim.  I  know  it  is  mine  to  open  the  way 
now,  as  once  I  closed  it." 

He  clutched  her  in  his  arms  and  shook  with  a  sudden 
storm  of  long  pent-up  feeling,  now  bursting  all  restraint. 
He  had  no  words;  he  framed  no  speech;  he  was  over 
whelmed. 


4i  8   THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

Why  put  it  into  words?  They  understood  each  other 
now.  He  had  gone  to  the  city  because  that  seemed  the 
open  way.  He  had  taken  up  the  purely  secular  work  of  the 
club  while  his  inmost  soul  cried  out :  "This  is  not  what  you 
vowed;  this  is  not  the  way  to  which  you  consecrated  all 
your  life."  It  was  for  her  sake  he  had  turned  aside,  and 
now  that  she  announced  the  way  of  return,  they  came  to 
gether  as  they  never  had;  now  was  she  truly  his  in  spirit 
as  in  law. 

It  was  long  before  they  spoke,  and  their  words  now  were 
of  other  things.  The  noon  train  was  sounding  at  the  bend; 
from  the  ledge  below  them  Blazing  Star  sent  up  a  querulous 
whinny.  Jim  was  calm  again  and  Belle  was  gently  smil 
ing,  though  her  eyes  still  brimmed. 

"We  shall  be  late  for  the  noon  meal,"  he  said,  rising. 
For  a  moment  they  stood  before  the  Spirit  Rock,  and  he 
said  in  words  of  the  old,  old  Book: 

"He  carried  me  away  in  the  spirit  to  a  great  and  high  mountain." 

"It  is  good  for  us  to  be  here." 

"I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence  cometh  my  help." 

They  walked  hand  in  hand  and  silently  down  the 
crooked  trail  to  the  horses.  He  lifted  her  to  the  saddle  and 
kissed  her  hand  only;  but  their  eyes  met  in  a  burning  look 
and  their  souls  met  face  to  face.  Then  they  turned  and 
rode  the  downward  trail,  and  on  the  level  plain  gave  free 
rein  to  the  horses  so  that  they  went  like  hounds  unleashed 
and  skimmed  the  plain  and  leaped  the  gulch  nor  stayed 
till  they  reached  the  Fort  and  the  friendly  door  where  the 
soldier  grooms  were  waiting. 


CLEAR  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN      419 

They  rode  again  the  next  day,  circling  the  plain  where 
the  Indian  race  had  been  run  and  pointing  out  familiar 
objects.  Jim  led  the  way  to  the  cottonwoods  near  where 
Higginbotham's  "Insurance  Office"  had  stood. 

He  stopped  at  the  very  spot  and  said:  "Little  girl,  do 
you  know  what  happened  here  about  a  year  ago?" 

"What?"  she  answered,  as  though  in  doubt. 

"Guess." 

"I  can't,"  she  replied.  She  would  not  say  it.  If  he 
wanted  it  said,  he  must  say  it  himself. 

"It  was  here  that  I  met  'Two  Strikes.'  Oh,  what  a 
blind  fool  I  have  been!  If  God  had  only  given  me  a  little 
less  body  and  a  little  more  brain!  But  it's  all  right.  He 
knows  best.  He  gave  me  you  and  I  am  thankful  for  that." 

"We  understand  each  other  better  now,  Jim,  don't  we? 
I  know  you  were  only  a  child  when  I  first  saw  you.  You 
are  a  boy  yet,  but  you  will  soon  be  a  man.  Listen,  Jim; 
I  have  not  ceased  to  think  it  over  since  we  stood  by  the 
Spirit  Rock.  Do  you  remember  what  I  said — you  must 
go  back  to  college?  I  must  open  the  way.  And  I  will, 
Jim;  I  have  it  all  planned  out.  You  must  go  back,  not 
to  Coulter,  there  are  better  colleges.  They  do  not  all  bar 
married  men.  There  is  one  in  Chicago;  Chicago  is  our 
gateway  still.  The  Western  Theological  College  is  there. 
They  will  accept  your  year  at  Coulter  for  entrance  and  one 
year's  work.  I  think  I  can  get  Mr.  Hopkins  to  let  me  keep 
on  with  the  Mountain  House.  My  salary  and  what  we 
have  saved  will  make  us  comfortable.  I  can  help  in  all 
your  studies.  In  two  years  you  will  be  through;  then  the 
Methodist  Church,  or  any  other,  will  be  glad  to  have  you 


420    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

and  the  way  will  be  open  wide.  I  will  not  fail  you.  You 
shall  not  fail  to  keep  your  word.  And  when  we  know,  as 
we  cannot  know  now,  you  will  see  that  God  was  guiding 
me.  Maybe  He  took  you  from  Coulter  because  you  were 
too  young;  surely  He  planned  for  us  and  has  led  us  at 
every  turn  in  the  trail.  It  seems  crooked  now,  but  every 
rider  in  the  hills  knows  that  the  crooks  in  the  trail  up 
Cedar  Mountain  were  made  to  elude  some  precipice  or  to 
win  some  height  not  otherwise  attainable;  no  other  trail 
could  end  at  the  Spirit  Rock,  the  highest  point,  the  calm 
and  blessed  outlook,  the  top  of  Cedar  Mountain." 

"Now,  Belle,  I  understand.  My  heart  told  me  to  wait, 
then  to  go  up  the  mountain  and  find  the  thing  I  needed.  I 
knew  you  would  not  fail;  I  knew  my  mountain  meant 
vision  for  you  and  me." 


CHAPTER  LXII 
WHEN   HE   WALKED  WITH  THE    KING 

HE  MUST  have  been  a  huge,  unwieldy  egotistical 
brute  who  said,  "Big  men  have  ever  big  frames." 
He  might  have  had  Samuel  Johnson,  Walter  Scott, 
Lincoln  or  Washington  in  mind;  but,  standing  ready  there 
to  hurl  the  glib  lie  in  his  teeth,  were  Napoleon,  Hamilton, 
St.  Paul,  Tamerlane,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jo.  Belloc,  President 
of  the  Western  Theological  College  in  Chicago.  He  was 
five  feet  high  in  his  stockinged  feet,  thin  and  wiry,  with  a 
large  gray  head,  a  short  gray  beard  and  keen  gray  eyes  of 
piercing  intensity.  When  you  saw  him  on  the  street,  you 
hardly  saw  him  at  all;  when  you  met  him  in  a  crowded 
room,  you  felt  that  the  spirit  behind  those  eyes  was  a  strong 
one;  and  when  you  heard  him  speak,  he  grew  tall  and  taller 
in  your  eyes — you  instinctively  removed  your  hat,  for  now 
you  knew  that  a  great  man  and  teacher  was  here. 

Why  should  such  a  one  devote  his  power  to  mere  de- 
nominationalism?  Ah,  you  do  not  understand.  He  an 
swered  thus  to  a  hostile  critic:  "My  friend,  the  harvest  is 
huge,  the  labourers  are  few;  we  need  more,  and  many  more 
than  we  have.  If  they  be  of  simple  sort  and  not  too  strong, 
we  teach  them  the  sweep  and  cut  of  the  scythe,  the  width 
of  the  swathe,  the  height  of  the  stubble,  the  knot  of  the 
sheaf-band,  all  that  is  safe,  neither  to  waste  the  crop,  nor 

421 


422    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

their  time,  nor  cut  their  fellow  harvesters  in  the  legs.  But, 
if  we  find  a  giant  with  his  own  mode,  who  cuts  a  double 
swath,  leaves  ragged  stubble,  smashes  oft  his  scythe,  but 
saves  a  wondrous  lot  of  grain,  we  say:  *  Praise  God! 
You're  doing  well;  the  rules  are  for  the  helpless  as  the  fence 
is  for  the  sheep;  but  you  we  judge  by  your  results;  keep 


on.' 


Dr.  Belloc  was  in  his  office  when  there  came  for  an  in 
terview  a  man  who  towered  above  him  as  they  shook 
hands.  The  president  motioned  him  to  a  seat;  then  as  he 
turned  those  piercing  eyes  on  the  comely  countenance  of 
his  caller,  the  prophet's  description  of  the  youthful  David 
came  to  his  mind,  "Now,  he  was  ruddy  and  withal  of  a 
beautiful  countenance  and  goodly  to  look  to." 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  asked  the  big  little  man  who 
filled  the  room,  but  did  not  fill  the  chair. 

Jim  modestly  stated  that  he  believed  he  had  a  call  to 
preach  the  Gospel  and  he  wished  to  enter  college.  Then, 
in  answer  to  questions,  he  told  his  story  with  simple  sin 
cerity  and  fervour.  The  keen  gray  eyes  were  glowing  like 
coals,  and  although  no  word  was  spoken  by  the  man  whose 
soul  looked  through  them,  Jim  felt  his  earnest,  kindly 
spirit.  He  felt,  as  never  before,  that  "here  is  one  who 
understands.  Here  is  one  in  whom  I  have  absolute  con 
fidence.  Here  is  one  whom  I  should  love  to  obey." 

This  leader  stirred  Jim  to  the  depths.  His  best,  his  in 
most  soul  came  forth  to  speak  in  response  to  the  master 
mind;  and  the  older  man  smiled  when  he  heard  how  the 
Preacher  had  hated  the  books  at  Coulter.  "Coulter,"  he 
said,  "is  a  good  old  college,  we  accept  their  entrance;  but  it 


WHEN  HE  WALKED  WITH  THE  KING    423 

is  quite  likely  that  our  curriculum  may  more  quickly  win 
your  interest  than  theirs  did." 

As  the  president  pondered  the  question  that  had  brought 
them  together,  the  second  part  of  the  lines  of  Samuel's 
description  of  David  rose  in  his  mind:  "Arise  and 
anoint  him,  for  this  is  he."  But  the  college  had  its 
own  way  of  saying  these  big  things;  documents,  questions, 
boards,  had  each  a  bearing  on  the  matter,  or  a  drop  of  ink 
to  spend,  and  each  offered  a  delay  to  the  decisive  action 
that  the  President  had  then  and  there  resolved  on.  But 
they  slowly  ran  their  course  and  in  the  early  autumn  Jim 
was  back,  a  college  boy,  and  Belle  had  taken  up  the  ruler's 
post  at  the  Club. 

It  was  easier  every  month  for  Jim  to  fight  the  battle 
with  the  books,  where  before  he  had  been  badly  beaten. 
No  doubt  he  was  helped  by  his  determination  to  win  the 
fight  and  by  Belle;  but  the  two  great  reasons  were  that  he, 
himself,  was  more  developed — had  outgrown  the  childish 
restlessness  of  the  first  attempt;  and  last  but  strongest  of 
all,  was  the  compelling  personality  of  the  president.  With 
what  consummate  tact  had  he  first  offered  to  Jim's  wild 
spirit  the  concrete,  the  simple,  the  history  of  to-day,  the 
things  that  clearly  were  of  immediate  use;  and  later — 
much  later,  and  in  lesser  degree — the  abstruse,  the  doc 
trinal.  And  when  the  younger  mind  of  the  student  came 
to  a  place  that  seemed  too  hard,  or  met  a  teacher  who  was 
deadening  in  Iiis  dullness,  it  needed  but  a  little  heart-to- 
heart  talk  with  the  strong  soul  in  the  robe  to  brace  him  up, 
to  spur  L::n  en. 

T;: .  j.  resident  soon  discovered  Jim's  love  for  heroic  verse 


424    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

and  at  once,  by  wise  selection,  made  it  possible  to  tie  that 
up  with  books.  When  Jim  betrayed  his  impatience  of 
fine-split  doctrines,  the  president  bade  him  forget  them 
and  read  the  lives  of  Luther,  Calvin,  and  Wesley — take 
in  the  facts;  the  principles,  so  far  as  they  had  value, 
would  take  care  of  themselves.  Such  methods  were  un 
known  to  his  former  teachers.  Such  presentation — vivid, 
concrete,  human — was  what  he  could  understand,  and 
accept  with  joy. 

Two  years  went  by.  The  first  six  months  seemed  slow; 
The  last  eighteen  all  too  rapid.  Jim  had  won  his  fight,  he 
had  more  than  won,  for  he  was  valedictorian  of  his  class. 
The  graduation  class  was  much  like  any  other,  as  the  world 
could  see  it,  yet  it  differed,  too.  When  the  tall  form  of 
the  student  speaker  was  left  standing  alone  on  the  plat 
form,  there  were  not  lacking  those  who  said :  "Never  before 
has  one  gone  from  these  halls  so  laden  with  good  gifts;  all, 
all  seems  showered  on  him." 

In  the  audience,  bound  bycloser  ties  than  kinship,  was  one 
whose  heart  was  too  full  for  any  human  utterance.  For  her 
it  was  the  crowning  of  their  lives;  had  she  not  helped  to 
make  it  possible  ? 

After  the  set  programme  was  over,  Dr.  Belloc  handed  to 
Jim  an  official  letter.  It  was  a  call  to  be  the  pastor  of  the 
church  in  Cedar  Mountain.  Jim  could  not  see  the  typed 
words  for  his  tears  and  the  president  took  it  from  him  to 
read  aloud.  As  he  listened  to  the  words  Jim's  thought 
turned  to  his  mother,  and  in  his  heart  he  prayed:  "O, 
God,  grant  this:  that  she  may  see  me  now." 


WHEN  HE  WALKED  WITH  THE  KING     425 

Reader  of  this  tale,  do  you  recall  the  history  of  Cedar 
Mountain — how  the  church  grew  strong  in  the  newly  given 
strength  ?  Those  of  many  diverse  churches  came,  for  they 
said:  "We  care  not  what  the  vessel's  shape  that  draws  the 
blessed  water  from  the  well,  so  long  as  it  be  always  there 
and  the  water  pure  and  plentiful."  Then  came  the  great 
gold  strike  in  the  near  hills;  and  the  Preacher  was  troubled 
till  he  learned  that  it  had  not  touched  his  mountain.  An 
other  railway  came,  and  the  town  grew  big  and  bigger  yet. 
There  were  those  that  feared  that  their  Preacher  might 
leave  them,  for  the  needs  and  calls  of  the  great  cities  are 
ever  loud  and  forceful.  They  said :  "Our  town  is  not  big 
enough  for  such  a  man;  he  will  surely  go  to  the  city."  But 
it  was  not  so;  for  the  city  came  to  the  man  and  mightily 
grew  about  him. 

Two  years  after  the  return  to  Cedar  Mountain,  late  in 
the  day,  designedly  late,  two  horses  might  have  been  seen 
ascending  the  crooked  trail  through  the  cedars  that 
mantled  the  mountain.  Familiar  forms  were  these  that 
rode.  They  had  often  taken  this  path  before.  The  first 
was  the  Preacher;  the  second,  the  woman  that  had  held 
his  hand.  But  in  her  arms  was  another — the  baby  form  of 
their  first-born.  This  was  their  first  long  ride  together  since 
he  came,  this  was  the  elected  trail;  and,  as  the  big,  red  sun 
went  down  in  the  purple  and  gold  of  his  curtains,  Jim  took 
the  baby  and  led  the  way  up  the  last  rough  trail,  to  the 
little  upland,  right  to  the  Spirit  Rock.  The  red  symbols 
of  the  Indians  had  been  recently  renewed;  in  a  crevice 
was  a  shred  of  tobacco  wrapped  in  red-dyed  grass.  It 


426    THE  PREACHER  OF  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN 

was  still  a  holy  place,  accounted  so  by  those  who  knew 
it. 

From  the  bundle  that  he  carried  on  his  back,  Jim  took  a 
handful  of  firewood,  a  canteen  of  water,  and  a  church 
baptismal  bowl.  He  filled  the  bowl  and  set  it  on  the 
lowest  ledge  of  the  Spirit  Rock.  Before  the  rock  he  lighted 
a  little  fire  and,  when  it  blazed,  he  dropped  into  the  flames 
the  tobacco  from  the  crevice.  "That  is  what  they  wished 
done  with  it,"  he  said  in  reverence.  When  the  thread  of 
smoke  went  up  nearly  straight  into  the  sky — an  emblem  of 
true  prayerthat  has  ever  been — he  kneeled,  and  Belle  beside 
him  with  the  little  one  kneeled,  and  he  prayed  to  the  God 
of  the  Mountain  for  continued  help  and  guidance  and  re 
turned  thanks  for  the  little  one  whom  they  had  brought 
that  day  to  consecrate  to  Him. 

Jim  wished  it.  Belle  willed  it.  His  mother,  he  knew, 
would  have  had  it  so.  There  seemed  no  better  place  than 
this,  the  holiest  place  his  heart  had  ever  known.  There 
was  no  better  time  than  this,  the  evening  calm,  with  all  the 
symbols  of  His  Presence  in  their  glory. 

Belle  handed  the  infant  to  Jim,  who  sprinkled  water 
on  its  face,  baptizing  it  in  the  form  of  the  Church,  and 
then  added:  "I  consecrate  thee  to  God's  service,  and  I 
name  thee  William  in  memory  of  the  friend  of  my  child 
hood,  a  man  of  wayward  life,  but  one  who  helped  to  build 
whatever  there  is  in  me  of  strength,  for  he  never  was 
afraid,  and  he  ever  held  his  simple  word  as  a  bond  that 
might  not  be  broken." 

THE    END 


BOOKS  BY  ERNEST  THOMPSON  SETON 

WILD  ANIMALS  I  HAVE  KNOWN,  1898 

The  stories  of  Lobo,  Silverspot,  Molly  Cottontail,  Bingo,  Vixen,  The  Pacing  Mus 
tang,  Wully  and  Redruff.  Price  $1.75.  (Scribners.) 

THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SANDHILL  STAG,  1899 

The  story  of  a  long  hunt  that  ended  without  a  tragedy.    Price,  50c.  net.     (Scribners.) 

BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  GRIZZLY,  1900 

The  story  of  old  Wahb  from  cubhood  to  the  scene  in  Death  Gulch.  Price,  $1.50  net. 
(Century  Company.) 

LOBO,  RAG  AND  VIXEN,  1900 

This  is  a  school  edition  of  number  one,  with  some  of  the  stories  and  many  of  the 
pictures  left  out.  Price,  50c.  net.  (Scribners.) 

THE  WILD  ANIMAL  PLAY,  1900 

A  musical  play  in  which  the  parts  of  Lobo,  Wahb,  Vixen,  etc.,  are  taken  by  boys  and 
girls.  Price  50c.  (Doubleday,  Page  &  Company.) 

THE  LIVES  OF  THE  HUNTED,  1901 

The  stories  of  Krag,  Randy,  Johnny  Bear,  The  Mother  Teal,  Chink,  The  Kangaroo 
Rat,  and  Tito,  the  Coyote.  Price,  $1.75  net.  (Scribners.) 

PICTURES  OF  WILD  ANIMALS,  1901 

Twelve  large  pictures  for  framing  (no  text),  viz.,  Krag,  Lobo,  Tito  Cub,  Kangaroo 
Rat,  Grizzly,  Buffalo,  Bear  Family,  Johnny  Bear,  Sandhill  Stag,  Coon  Family,  Cour- 
taut  the  Wolf,  Tito  and  her  family.  Price,  $6.00.  (Scribners.)  Out  of  print. 

KRAG  AND  JOHNNY  BEAR,  1902 

This  is  a  school  edition  of  Lives  of  the  Hunted  with  some  of  the  stories  and  many 
of  the  pictures  left  out.  Price,  50c.  net.  (Scribners.) 

TWO  LITTLE  SAVAGES,  1903 

A  book  of  adventure  and  woodcraft  and  camping  out  for  boys  telling  how  to  make 
bows,  arrows,  moccasins,  costumes,  teepee,  war-bonnet,  etc.,  and  how  to  make  a  fire 
with  rubbing  sticks,  read  Indian  signs,  etc.  Price,  $1.75  net.  (Doubleday, -Page  & 
Company.) 

MONARCH,  THE  BIG  BEAR  OF  TALLAC,  1904 

The  story  of  a  big  California  grizzly  that  is  living  yet.     Price,  50c.  net.     (Scribners.) 

ANIMAL  HEROES,  1905 

The  stories  of  a  Slum  Cat,  a  Homing  Pigeon,  The  Wolf  That  Won,  A  Lynx,  A  Jack- 
rabbit,  A  Bull-terrier,  The  Winnipeg  Wolf,  and  a  White  Reindeer.  Price,  $1.75  net. 
(Scribners.) 

BIRCH-BARK  ROLL,  1906 

The  Manual  of  the  Wooden 
Company.) 

WOODMYTH  AND  FABLE,  1905 

A  collection  of  fables,  woodland  verses 
tury  Company.) 

THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  THE  TEN  COMMANDMENTS,  1907 

be  ft 

427 


The  Manual  of  the  Woodcraft  Indians,  first  edition,  1902.     (Doubleday,  Page  & 
Company.) 


A  collection  of  fables,  woodland  verses,  and  camp  stories.      Price,  $1.25  net.     (Cen 
tury  Company.) 


Showing  the  Ten  Commandments  to  be  fundamental  laws  of  all  creation.      78  pages. 
Price,  50c.  net.     (Scribners.) 


BOOKS  BY  ERNEST  THOMPSON   SETON 

THE  BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  SILVER  FOX,  1909 

or  Domino  Reynard  of  Goldur  Town,  with  100  illustrations  by  the  author.  209  pages. 
Price,  $1.50  net. 

A  companion  volume  to  the  Biography  of  a  Grizzly.     (Century  Company.) 

LIFE  HISTORIES  OF  NORTHERN  ANIMALS,  1909 

In  two  sumptuous  quarto  volumes  with  68  maps  and  560  drawings  by  the  author. 
Pages  1,267.  Price,  $18.00  net. 

Said  by  Roosevelt,  Allen,  Chapman,  and  Hornaday  to  be  the  best  work  ever  written 
on  the  Life  Histories  of  American  Animals.  (Scribners.) 

BOY  SCOUTS  OF  AMERICA,  1910 

A  handbook  of  Woodcraft,  Scouting,  and  Life  Craft  including  the  Birch-Bark  Roll. 
192  pages.  Price,  50c.  Out  of  print.  (Doubleday,  Page  &  Company.) 

ROLF  IN  THE  WOODS,  1911 

The  Adventures  of  a  Boy  Scout  with  Indian  Quonab  and  little  dog  Skookum.  Over 
200  drawings  by  the  author.  Price,  $1.75  net.  (Doubleday,  Page  &  Company.) 

THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES,  1911 

A  canoe  journey  of  2,000  miles  in  search  of  the  Caribou.  415  pages  with  many  maps, 
photographs,  and  illustrations  by  the  author.  Price,  $2.50  net.  (Scribners.) 

THE  BOOK  OF  WOODCRAFT  AND  INDIAN  LORE,  1912 

with  over  500  drawings  by  the  author.  Price,  $1.75  net.  (Doubleday,  Page  &  Com 
pany.) 

THE  FORESTER'S  MANUAL,  1912 

One  hundred  of  the  best-known  forest  trees  of  eastern  North  America,  with  100  maps 
and  more  than  200  drawings.  Price,  50c.  in  paper.  (Doubleday,  Page  &  Company.) 

WILD  ANIMALS  AT  HOME,  1913 

with  over  150  sketches  and  photographs  by  the  author.  226  pages.  Price,  $1.75  net. 
In  this  Mr.  Seton  gives  for  the  first  time  his  personal  adventures  in  studying  wild 
animals.  (Doubleday,  Page  &  Company.) 

MANUAL  OF  THE  WOODCRAFT  INDIANS,  1915 

The  fourteenth  Birch-Bark  Roll.  100  pages.  25c.  paper,  75c.  cloth.  (Doubleday, 
Page  &  Company.) 

WILD  ANIMALS  WAYS,  1916 

More  animal  stories  introducing  a  host  of  new  four-footed  friends  with  200  illustra 
tions  by  the  author.  Net.  $1.50.  (Doubleday,  Page  &  Company.) 

THE  INDIAN  SIGN  LANGUAGE  (to  be  published  later). 

BY  MRS.  ERNEST  THOMPSON  SETON 

Published  by  Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 

A  WOMAN  TENDERFOOT,  1901 

A  book  of  outdoor  adventures  and  camping  for  women  and  girls.  How  to  dress  for 
it,  where  to  go,  and  how  to  profit  the  most  by  camp  life.  Price,  $2.00.  Out  of  print. 

NIMROD'S  WIFE,  1907 

A  companion  volume,  giving  Mrs.  Seton's  side  of  the  many  camp-fires  she  and  her 
husband  lighted  together  in  the  Rockies  from  Canada  to  Mexico.  Price,  $1.75  net. 
Out  of  print. 

428 


THE    COUNTRY    LIFE   PRESS 
GARDEN   CITY,    N.   Y. 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


